Deliverance
by Lightning Streak
Summary: A collection of one-shots, two-shots, and mini-stories about TUE Dark Dan and Valerie. Shot 22: Dan's Secret VALentine Plans (Part Three): Dan uses a familiar human appearance to "spend more time" with Valerie, and to keep her safe from her stalker. Chaos ensues. Rating: T, Genre: Romance/humor
1. Motivation

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Hey, everyone! Hope you enjoy my new collection of one-shots! _

_Shot One Summary: __A fight with Valerie does__ not end the way Phantom expects it to. _

_Rating: T_

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><p><strong>Deliverance <strong>

**Shot One: Motivation**

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><p>"Why don't you give up, Valerie?" Dan Phantom taunted her, red eyes mocking. He stared at her limping along the asphalt. He flew lower and gracefully twisted, avoiding the meager blasts sent his way. "Or do you just enjoy losing?"<p>

"Why don't you shut up, Phantom?" the woman retaliated, voice rough. She raised her ecto-blaster and fired again, but he evaded it. A part of her raged in fury; another part of her died in fear. The hit to her leg had slowed her down. She needed to slow him too, otherwise she'd be toast. "Or do you just like to hear yourself talk?"

"Maybe I do. Then I don't have to listen to your grating voice."

Valerie growled. "Yeah, you just don't wanna admit that you're a sick, egotistical bastard!"

His dark eyes flashed in anger, and he spiraled up, hands sparking with violent green energy. "Because you're one to talk?" he retaliated, shooting a powerful beam her way. "Your bitchy attitude is unequaled."

Valerie's eyes widened, and she pressed a button on her suit. A purple barrier sparked around her. But his power crashed through her meager barrier and threw her backwards down the abandoned highway. She crashed and skidded onto the hard asphalt in a flail of limbs, her neck snapping sideways. She slid a ways in the gravel. Then she stopped.

Her crumpled form didn't move.

Dan's eyebrow raised as he tilted his head to stare at her. He waited for her to groan and get back up, but it never came. "Huh."

He tapped his foot, waiting for a sign of movement. Still nothing. Eventually he flew down beside her to inspect Valerie's condition.

Her body, lithe and slender, now looked rather like a broken doll. Her leg awkwardly bent itself backwards, and both her arms had snapped at the elbows. Out of curiosity, he kneeled and pulled off her mask, and his red eyes gazed upon her bloodied face. Gushing trails ran down from her temple and from her ear.

No heartbeat. No breath.

"Oops," he said happily. "Looks like I broke you, Valerie." He raised one of her arms and let it go. It flopped.

Then, a glorious and triumphant smile curled his lips upward. "You're a lot more beautiful like this," he said, and he patted her bloody face. "You should stay this way for awhile."

Triumph bloomed in his chest with the sound of war drums. He stared at Amity Park, the only remnant of the earth untouched and un-scorched by him.

A mischievous smirk curled his lips, and his red eyes darkened. "My hometown," he whispered.

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><p>He managed to subdue and destroy the small city in hours, terrorizing the citizens one by one. Each one sunk to the ground in fear, prostrate and wailing for mercy.<p>

It was rather boring.

Dan was expecting resistance, but he met none. The citizens, knowing their Red Huntress was gone, had no one to fight for their existence. He blasted a few of them, but it failed to entertain him.

He allowed them, those _weak_ creatures, to pile in their emergency vehicles and safe houses and disappear underground to the bunkers.

Leaving him in perfect, quiet silence.

And it was there in the silence of total destruction that he realized something: half the fun of world conquest was the resistance itself.

Valerie was the only one would didn't cower in fear of him. Without her, no one was there to resist him, to challenge him, to make him _think_.

No one else dared to retaliate against him.

Only Valerie. Who was dead.

Dan growled, red eyes flashing in displeasure. He disliked challenges without challenge! He disliked this, this _world_ without that ridiculous red suit on his tail, daring to defeat him, giving him a reason to think and strategize.

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath, running a hand through his fiery hair.

He stewed in his frustration for all of an hour before it overwhelmed him and forced him to fly back to that same spot where he'd left Valerie.

He landed so hard, his feet caved in the ground. He was furious. His day was ruined, and if Valerie was truly dead, his entire path to world conquest would be ruined too!

He kicked her unmoving body. "Get up," he commanded.

She didn't.

His lips curled in disgust. "I said, get up!" He kicked her again, harder. Her entire body rocked, and her neck moved her head to the side. Her curls were matted now. Her neck was darkly bruised with his fingerprints.

But her chest didn't rise with air.

"Look at you," he hissed, trying to get her attention, goading her on. "Dead, in the middle of the street, left for the scavengers! No one came for you! No one buried you! Your pathetic species abandoned you to me!"

He knew she wouldn't move, wouldn't retaliate, but it was the principle of the thing. She was supposed to sit up and try to shoot him, which he would effortlessly avoid and ridicule her.

The dance. It was a twisted and delightful dance.

He didn't know when Valerie had become such an integral facet of his afterlife, but he knew exactly when he decided she was rather like a toy that he couldn't stand to throw away.

She existed to challenge him and entertain him with her miserable attempts to save the world. If she was dead, how could she do so?

"And now look what you've done!" he complained. "You've destroyed my enjoyment of world conquest."

He rolled his eyes, like a suffering saint, and he kneeled beside her. He grabbed her chin non-too-gently and forced her face towards him. Hollow and clouded teal eyes stared sightlessly beyond him, and his nose scrunched up. "Disgusting."

He hated that look on her. He'd lied to himself. He _hated_ the way she looked dead.

So he changed it.

People always thought ghosts fed on the energy of human souls, whether it came through fear or love. People didn't know the reverse was true as well.

Dan pressed his hand against her stomach and pushed his energy through her. The void within the shell of her body naturally searched for the source of great power, and in a sigh of relief, latched onto him, drinking from his fingers.

He did not smile his signature demonic smirk until he saw breath raise Valerie's chest.

He brushed her greasy ringlets away from her closed eyes, his gloved fingers lingering too long on her skin. The dried blood on her temples seeped back into her, melting through skin and muscle to flow once again in her veins, her renewed lungs and heart working to push the blood through her body.

He could hear her heartbeat now.

Her brilliant, teal eyes opened as she coughed and gasped.

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><p>But by the time her mind caught up with her body, Dan was gone. Valerie instinctively grabbed her ecto-blaster, eyes darting every which way. Her jumbled thoughts screamed at her.<p>

She touched her face, noticing her mask laying a few feet away. Her battle suit was torn open and shredded in places, but she didn't hurt. Valerie turned her leg and noticed through the rip of her battle suit that her skin was sealed over, healed, smooth chocolate. No painful burn from Phantom's power.

What had happened?

Cold water washed over her, an alien fear overcoming her mind. Somewhere, she knew the truth. Her skin tingled with his power.

Touch. He'd touched her and healed her.

Off in the distance, Dan reappeared, his cape fluttering in the wind. He lightly stepped from the sky onto hard ground, and the slight sound snapped Valerie's neck around. She stared at him in complete shock, teal eyes wide, vulnerable.

"I have to admit," he said, voice echoing, "it's boring without you, Valerie. No one in Amity has the spirit you do."

"You," she whispered. "You…"

"What? Spared your miserable existence from an early grave? This changes nothing," he said, red eyes dark with shifting emotions. "You will continue to fight me until I _want _you to die."

She stared at him, searching his eyes. The hard truth in his words made her remember her own mortality. Then, she grabbed her ecto-blaster and narrowed her gaze. "You don't have to tell me twice, ghost."

Forget that he'd brought her back to toy with her more. She had a second chance to take him down, and she wasn't going to waste it.

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><p><em>So here's my new fandom obsession. I really enjoy the idea of Dark DanValerie, because it's just twisted enough to be interesting and different enough to create a fun challenge for me to write. :) I don't think they are the type to immediately fall in love or something, or back down from their own ideas, but I see a pretty fun potential for eventual compromise. _

_Tell me whatcha think! _

_Thanks for reading, _  
><em>Lightning Streak<em>


	2. Aftermath

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_I looked over reviews for this one-shot collection and realized __**Invader Johnny**__ had suggested the following idea way back in 2011. I then realized that I was in need of a challenge tonight. So here we go! _

_**NOTE:**__** These one-shots are unrelated unless otherwise specified.** _

_Current one-shot summary: Valerie cannot hide what Dan did to her. Rating: High T. Genre: Drama/Angst. _

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><p><strong>Deliverance One-Shots<strong>

**Shot 2: Aftermath**

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><p>She'd been hiding from her own people for a long time.<p>

Valerie stared at the test in her hand, eyes wide in pain and disbelief. Her hands shook. Then, she squeezed her eyes shut, and tears rolled down her dark face. "Shit," she breathed, unsteady.

It had been nearly a week. She kept praying the tests would say something, anything different. But they never did.

A wave of pure hatred and fury overwhelmed her, and she threw the test against the wall. It shattered into pieces, destroying the evidence. "Dammit!" she snarled, vision blurring with hot tears.

She slid down against the wall, world tilting. She felt weak. She gently touched her bruised neck, where he'd choked her and held her down. "I hate you," she whispered to the air. "I hate you so much!"

Red eyes flashed in her memories, along with a mocking smile.

.

_"Come on, Valerie. Isn't this fun?" He pinned her down, face twisted in a maniacal smile. __Cold and bare fingers ran down her face. "I want to help you face all of your fears, starting with this." _

.

"Get out of my head," her voice hitched. "Get out, get out!" Her fingertips shook as she fisted her hair and pulled. "Please…just…"

She could still feel his oppressive presence suffocating her. Her breath struggled in her lungs. "Go away!"

But then she heard something else answer her. The sound of approaching footsteps echoed in her ears, and she glanced up with a flinch.

"…Valerie?" the voice called uncertainly. "I heard voices. Are you in here?"

Vlad. Damn that man's sense of timing.

"Uh, yes!" she said shakily. She stood, wiping her tears on her sleeve. She swallowed hard. _Hide it, Gray. Hide it. _

Vladimir Masters, one of the major sponsors of the resistance, appeared in the doorway. His sky eyes landed on hers, saw the glimmer of hastily-brushed tears on her cheeks. He looked away.

"Your father and I have been searching for you," he said. He pulled at his necktie a bit awkwardly. He looked nervous and horribly out of place. "When you did not appear for dinner, we assumed you were in the infirmary, and when you were not there…" he trailed off.

It fell silent between them.

"I didn't feel like eating," Valerie said, turning away. She hugged herself. She still felt cold. She always felt cold now.

"Valerie, you cannot hide away here forever."

"Yes, I can," she snapped back. "I don't feel like going out. I don't feel like doing anything."

Vlad raised a sympathetic brow. "Then what will you do, my child?"

"I don't know." Valerie was a horrible liar. She knew exactly what she wanted to do. She felt like vomiting, drowning herself in bottles of bleach and acid to rid herself of the feeling of him—

She squeezed her eyes shut and settled for silence.

"We're all worried," Vlad said suddenly. "This is not like you." He waved a hand at her clothes, which were a baggy sweater and pants. Gone was her typical battle suit. "The past week, you've just…fallen apart."

"I'm not falling apart," she said, forcing her voice to snap strong as it always had. "I'm just…" A wave of pain, of flashing red eyes, stole away her words.

Shame tore through her. She could not look up at the older man who had doubled for years as a second father figure. "How many people know what happened?" she whispered.

Vlad sighed. "Very few. Me, your father, the nurses who cared for you that night…" He took the initiative to walk into the room and shut the door behind him for privacy. "We've told the others that you sustained significant injuries and are still in intensive care. I've bribed the doctors to corroborate our story with anyone who asks."

She nodded. Injuries she could handle. She still limped a little and had black stiches down her right arm.

But she wouldn't be able to fake a flat stomach in the future.

Vlad watched the younger woman thoughtlessly touch her stomach. He swallowed hard. "Valerie, I've been thinking. I know technology is rather crude nowadays, but I believe we can…"

She turned, feeling far too young. "What?" she asked again, wiping her nose on her sleeve and blinking away her tears.

"You can abort the child," Vlad repeated slowly. "It's still very early. No one would have to know." He looked guilty and sorrowful. "This shouldn't have happened at all."

Valerie swallowed hard. "You mean, you could get rid of…it?"

"It's not a perfect solution," Vlad admitted. "I can't undo what he did. But I can pull some strings, locate some technology or medication. Destroy the evidence so you don't have to suffer under this burden."

Through her tears, she stared out at the sparse room, her hand subconsciously resting on her stomach. She was silent, thinking hard. "It'd be half-human," she said.

"Yes," Vlad agreed.

"I don't kill humans," Valerie said firmly.

"No, I suppose you don't."

Gears turned in her head. She imagined herself swelling up, feeling the pains of a child (hardly above a monster, most likely) growing within her. She imagined staring into its face, watching its red eyes, shaped as her own were, open up in a half-human love.

She imagined killing it before it learned of its own destructive nature. Her nose scrunched. "I think…"

Vlad's eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

Valerie imagined the child's ringlet hair that it would inherit from her. A sense of humanity. Maybe it would be innocent just enough to beg for praise when it began to fly.

Then a thought, as strong and brilliant as the sun, struck her. Her teal eyes widened.

"Would it be able to think on its own?" she asked him. "You know, think like us? Have feelings?"

Vlad blinked at the sudden interest. "I suppose so. I have…known half-human ghosts before. They were not all entirely evil. They were capable of love." He had the grace to look almost ashamed.

"Then I should keep it," she decided suddenly, her idea overwhelming her mind. "If it's half of me, it's also half of him. It'll be powerful, whatever it is. And it'll be on our side. We'll use it to destroy him." A vicious, half-smirk curled her lips.

She could see it now. The poetic justice.

Vlad stared in concern at her. "Valerie, I do not believe you have the correct motives to—"

"—No!" she spun around and poked him in the chest. "Don't lecture me! Don't you see? This is the perfect opportunity. Our secret weapon against him. We'll raise it to hate him and love us, and it'll be powerful enough that we can turn this resistance into a real war." Her bloodshot and watery eyes were dark with the strangest mixture of hatred and love. "I'll keep it."

When the man's jaw dropped, she raised a brow. "Vlad, you couldn't _build_ a weapon powerful enough to stand against him. But he just created one for us!"

She laughed, borderline hysterical. "And he thought he'd broken me! He handed me the key to his defeat." She tapped her fingers against her stomach. "It'll be perfect."

Her teal eyes hardened. A spark of her old self shined through her gaunt face. "I'll make it perfect."

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><p><em><strong>AN:**__ O_o. The things that come out of my mind sometimes. I don't know. This is almost as bad or worse than my other story Chained._

_If anyone wants a continuation of any chapters or has new ideas, I'm up for suggestions! _

_Thanks for reading,  
>Lightning Streak<em>

_Please Review! _


	3. Confession

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

_I'm so thankful a few other people out there share my secret appreciation for DarkGray. Thanks for reviews, guys!_

_**Shot 3 Summary**: Dan wants to know why Valerie has bruises he didn't cause. Genre: Romance/Drama. Rating: T._

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><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 3: Confession**

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><p>One day, Valerie tracked Dan Phantom down to a ruined portion of the city.<p>

"It's your lucky day, Phantom," she called out to him from atop her jet sled. Her voice was almost hoarse. "I've got some serious energy to burn."

Phantom looked as though he was about to return the banter, but then his red eyes widened as Valerie flew in closer. And for a second, he was speechless.

A dark bruise stormed down the side of Valerie's face, marring her brown skin. Her lip was split with a scab barely healed over.

His gaze narrowed immediately as he flew down to meet her. "What the hell is this?" he demanded, pointing at her face.

The lines of her body tightened defensively. "None of your business, ghost." She raised a small bazooka up. "You should be more worried about yourself."

But he barely gave her weapon a glance. "Who did this to you?" His voice carried with it a strange pattern that made Valerie hesitate on her jet sled, her fingers freezing on the bazooka's trigger.

"Does it matter?" she readjusted and narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to move. If she shot now, he would be expecting it.

Dan simply frowned and crossed his arms in suspicion. "You look like shit," he told her, watching for her reaction.

Her sculpted brows raised at the concerned insult, and she jutted her chin with her typical stubbornness. "Well, if you think I look bad, you should see the other guy."

Phantom had little doubt about that; Valerie was nothing if not defensive. He still stared at her oddly, like a child watching his favorite toy get used by another. He asked, voice rough, "Who was he?"

The human woman gave him a strange look. She lowered the bazooka against her better judgment. "What the hell's wrong with you? Can't a girl get in a fight sometime?"

Valerie was not excessively vain about her appearance, but she was starting to feel very self-conscious under Phantom's gaze. He almost looked…worried, the same way her father had looked when he'd seen her earlier.

"You're only allowed to fight _me_," the ghost said. His voice was possessive and angered. "You're mine. No one else's. I'll kill him, whoever he is."

Valerie began to back away and tried not to think about Phantom's words. "…There_ is_ something wrong with you. You sound concerned." She began looking around, which only made the harsh sunlight glint more off of her purple bruises. Her lip had cracked open and shined with fresh blood that she had to lick away with a grimace. "What is this, a trick? You hiding something?"

"You're the one hiding shit," he said. "Stop diverting."

She huffed out with a strangled voice, "Stop asking personal questions."

"No."

"I am officially creeped out by you right now."

"And I'm officially pissed off. Tell me who he is, or I'll find him without you and leave nothing to bury."

Valerie hesitated on her jet sled, realizing that Phantom was not going to fight her or budge from his fixation on her face until he learned the truth. "Can't you let this go?" she nearly begged.

"No."

The Red Hunter inhaled deeply, then groaned, looking up at the sky as if to question the universe. "Oh my God, alright. Fine."

He waited impatiently.

"It wasn't a he," she finally admitted. Her face flushed in shame. "It was freakin' Paulina, who flipped when I told her that she couldn't lead worth a damn."

Phantom blinked. Then his expression twisted, and his voice turned incredulous. "Paulina." His voice strangled into a laugh…and relief? "You're the only human to stand against me and survive, and _Paulina_—?"

"—It was early," Valerie tried to defend herself. "And I told you, I don't take shit lying down. You know that."

Phantom tilted his head. "Is she at least regretting her decision right now?"

Valerie shrugged. "I bitch-slapped her in the face with a wooden plank. Of course she is."

Phantom nodded in approval. "Of course." His lips twitched, but his smirk never reached his eyes as he took in the sight of Valerie's bruised cheek and puffed lip and the way it distorted the symmetry of her face. "I'll still slice her in half."

"Uh, no." Valerie's bazooka whined up. Her moment of vulnerability was gone. "I'm not letting you kill anyone, including Paulina. She's a bitch, but she's not actually evil like you."

Dan raised a brow. "And here I thought I'd be doing you a favor."

"Why do you even care if someone hits me?" she demanded, catching onto his strange tone. "Haven't you seen the scars _you've_ given me?"

"None of them are on your face."

"And why does that matter?" Valerie huffed in irritation.

"Because." Phantom did not immediately answer, which threw off the timing of their banter. He looked her over once more. "I like your face."

For one second, Valerie just blinked. _Say what?_

But instead of a sneer or a glare, the ghost's blood-red eyes seared into hers with an emotion they did not usually have. Sincerity.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Ooh, an actual almost-romance one-shot, lol. I think their relationship would be a little too unhealthy to actually classify it as romance. _

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_

_Please Review! I also take requests. _


	4. Lunch Time

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks for all your responses and reviews last time!_

_**Shot 4 Summary:**__ All Valerie wants to do is eat her sandwich in peace, but Dan refuses to leave her alone. Rating: T. Genre: romance/humor._

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><p><strong>Deliverance <strong>

**Shot 4: Lunch Time**

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><p>Valerie's stomach grumbled uncomfortably, and she grabbed at it with a wince. Rations had been getting smaller recently within the resistance—down to two meals a day. It was a necessary evil to maintain the population that was thriving beneath the shield, but it did not make her job any easier. She often skipped breakfast, using her early-morning grogginess to hide her hunger.<p>

But now that it was afternoon…

The famous Red Hunter was currently patrolling the boundary between Amity Park and the desolate world surrounding it. Her Phantom Tracker had not buzzed yet, but paranoia and experience told her that he would be coming around soon for his daily dose of tormenting her.

"Gotta eat something," she whispered to herself, remembering that she had packed some food away in a containment space in her jet sled. If she ran into Phantom later, she'd need her strength.

It was time to give in.

She paused in-flight, swooping down on her jet sled to land gracefully on the bare dirt. The Wastelands were once the foundations for towns such as Elmerton and Jasper—now all completely leveled by Phantom's hand.

She sat down beside a fallen steel beam and gazed out at the windswept world and weeds. It was silent and abandoned, with not even a wandering ghost in sight. With a sigh of relief, Valerie pulled out a brown paper bag from the cold sub-space in her jet sled. Her heart quickened in anticipation for food.

She imagined that Phantom was far away on the other side of the world, terrorizing the small Russian resistance there, or destroying Amity's other allies in Africa. Maybe, she figured, he was even attempting to locate Clockwork's tower.

"Oh, look what the Wastelands dragged out," called a familiar, mocking voice.

She face faulted, her fingers digging deep into the paper bag. _Shit,_ she thought. Her Phantom Tracker began to buzz in its typical, delayed fashion.

So much for her imagination.

Phantom appeared in a whirlwind that swept Valerie's ringlet hair up into her face. Her nose wrinkled at his excessive display of power, but she did not move.

The ghost floated in the air nonchalantly before her, his cape fluttering. "Miss me?" he asked.

She flipped him the bird with her free hand. "Not a bit," she said with an incredibly fake smile.

As always, Phantom took her snark in stride. "Aww, but you're usually so enthusiastic about my presence." He floated before her, tilting his head at the curious sight of Valerie sitting before him, holding food. "And you are…eating lunch."

"Yep."

"That is horribly mundane," Phantom said, brushing nonexistent dirt off of his arms. "In far more exciting news, I destroyed the last of the Amazon forest today and killed off the Russian resistance leader." He crossed his arms expectantly. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

For a second, she paused. She stared at him in consternation, irritation and anger swarming through her. What was this—show and tell? Was he really waiting for her to react, just so they could have something to fight about?

He ruined everything, always. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't live without having to constantly fight him off.

So that day, she made a different decision. _Fuck it all_, she thought, raising a silent prayer of forgiveness to the dead Russian resistance leader.

Valerie merely waved Phantom off. "Here's what I'm gonna do about it," she replied. "I'm gonna sit here, and I'm gonna eat this damn sandwich if it's the last thing I do." She eyed him with a harsh glare, not unlike that of a mother with an unruly child. "Now you can either go away and leave my city in peace, or you can sit on that ledge over there so I can keep an eye on you."

The ghost's handsome face twisted into a smile. "Or I can be perfectly misbehaved while you eat that sandwich."

"And I can be perfectly kick-ass if you _don't _behave while I eat this sandwich." She pulled out half of a turkey sandwich from the bag, complete with lettuce and a healthy, red tomato slice. Her mouth watered. She bit down on the triangle of bread, closing her eyes.

When was the last time she'd had bread?

Phantom's face fell in disappointment as he realized that Valerie was practically ignoring him. His lip raised up in disgust, revealing his fangs. "You'd betray your own race to eat a sandwich?"

She swallowed, feeling the food expand in her ever-shrinking stomach. "No, but I haven't had an uninterrupted meal in months. I'm tired of never getting to eat."

Phantom considered, then narrowed his eyes. "So you're just stalling. And then you'll fight me."

When Valerie shrugged in response, Phantom contemplated smacking the sandwich right out of her hands, but he simply rolled his eyes in annoyance. "You're ruining my fun, you know," he whined, laying down on another steel beam not too far away. He placed his hands behind his head. "This is the problem with you humans. You're always so weak and needy."

Valerie took a bite of her sandwich and raised an eyebrow.

"I need more opponents," Dan said, red eyes staring up at the clouds in the sky. "People who can actually keep up with me. Ghosts, especially. Maybe I should unleash Pariah Dark again for the hell of it. Although there's not much left of him now…"

Valerie's lips pulled down as irritation wormed its way through her.

"This is just pathetic," he complained. "Have my standards for combat really fallen so far? I've resorted to waiting on you to finish _lunch_, just so I can have a little—"

In anger, she chucked the other wrapped half of the sandwich at him. Without even looking her way, his hand shot up and grabbed it. "And now you're throwing your food! This is desperate, Valerie," he said, turning the turkey sandwich over and eying it. "Turkey does not weaponize well."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you with it," she rolled her eyes. "I want you to shut up and eat it."

The full ghost paused in confusion, speechless for but a second. "Uh, in case you've somehow forgotten what I am, I don't have to eat food like you."

"I know. I don't care. Just freakin' shut up and eat the damn sandwich. Then I can get some silence for once instead of having to hear you blabber."

Phantom blinked at the odd demand, his hand clenching around the sandwich. But he smirked. "You'd share your pathetic rations with me? I'm touched."

"I'm not doing this for you. It's for my own sanity." She took another bite and eyed him. "Now eat."

The ghost was deeply amused by Valerie's new tactics and responded, "Only because you asked _so_ nicely." He waved the sandwich triangle in the air as a toast, then unwrapped it and bit into the soft bread. But something strange happened. His smirk fell into surprise as crumbs swept through his mouth. Real food had not touched his lips in years, and he'd forgotten the taste of bread, the crunch of lettuce.

He recalled old memories of picnics, his family's laughter. A warm sun.

He took another bite, sinking his fangs in faster and closing his eyes, reveling in the taste. He remained silent as he lounged against the steel beam. His muscles relaxed down from their defensive mode.

And for the first time, the two enemies remained in each other's presence without insults or flying fists. They munched on the turkey sandwich together, almost comfortable.

Not far away, Valerie reveled in the silence, enjoying the last few bites of her sandwich as she watched Phantom from out of the corner of her eye. She would have to consider something like this in the future, if it meant she could sit down without having to worry about Phantom destroying something. She could keep an eye on him from here.

_Keep your friends close_, she thought ruefully, _and your enemies closer_.

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><p>The peace lasted for all of about three minutes.<p>

"So, Val," Phantom said suddenly, turning himself on the steel beam to face her with curious eyes. His hair wavered about his head in flickering tendrils that danced across his temple and jaw. He almost looked happy. "Does this classify as a lunch date?"

Valerie's nose scrunched at his use of her nickname. "Hell no." She licked the tomato juices off her fingers to get all the nutrients she could, then un-holstered her blaster from her belt.

If Phantom was going to tease her, then it was time to get back to work.

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><p><em><strong>AN**__:_ _The problem with feeding wild animals is that they always come back for more. Another almost-romance-but-not-quite moment.. _

_I've received multiple requests to continue one-shot 2, "Aftermath," so I intend to update this collection next with that document. I also have a separate Dan and Valerie story that will publish this Friday, so keep your eyes out! :)_

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_

_Please Review! I also take requests or ideas. _


	5. Aftermath Part 2

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thank you to Invader Johnny, Xand'r Coldhearted, Above the Winter Moonlight, AmethystFlare3, lightshadow101, and Zanza Flux for reviewing last chapter! _

_So, several people requested that I continue "Aftermath," which was Shot 2. This chapter is about as twisted as I can get without upping the rating, so I hope this satisfies. I may be convinced to make a Part 3, depending on what you all think._

_**Shot 5 Summary: Aftermath Part 2**__. Dan discovers that Valerie is pregnant with his child. Rating: High T. Genre: Drama/Angst. _

_Rated for creepy!Dan and non-graphic conversations of rape._

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><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 5: Aftermath Part 2**

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><p>For several months, they managed to hide Valerie away from Phantom's sight. The increased number of wandering ghosts in the Wasteland confirmed that Phantom had been spending most of his time in the Ghost Zone, ripping it to pieces. The small resistance that protected Amity Park breathed a sigh of relief at that. His absence gave them time to think, to plan.<p>

No one spoke of Valerie's condition. They all gave her space, despite the pity and horrified looks as they watched their once-leader fall breathless under the weight of a growing child and a fractured mind. When she began to emit ectoplasmic signatures, they knew exactly who the father was.

They only hoped it was wise she had chosen to keep the half-human monster.

Soon enough, Phantom returned to tear down on Amity Park's ghost shield, pacing like a panther in wait for Valerie. When she did not appear, he shattered the Shield into pieces with a new power—a Ghostly Wail. He flew through the open air, reveling in the emergency alarms that charged up at his presence.

Amity Park fell to chaos.

"Where's my _favorite_ ghost hunter?" he called out among the panicking crowds, a pout on his face. He shot a few of them for good measure. "Oh, Valerie!" Her name nearly sung from his lips. "I'm here to see you!"

When nothing happened, he frowned. He raised a hand in the direction of a tall building. "If you don't show up, I'll have to take something away. Like the little orphanage down the road. Or these pathetic insects moving back into their hives."

A few more seconds passed with Dan awaiting in tense silence. But then the automatic locks on the resistance building clicked, and heavy doors unlatched, sinking back into concrete walls. Valerie appeared before him, weaponless but for her fire eyes. "What do you want?" she snapped. Fear bled off of every line in her body despite her attempts to hide it.

She did not wear her battle suit, for she'd been unable to fit into it for months. She wore an old, tunic-length tank top and wrap skirt that had once been her mother's.

Although her arms and face looked gaunt, Phantom eyes trailed below her chest, and he stared at her stomach, which bulged out beneath her hands with several months of pregnancy.

Phantom's eyebrows flew up. "Why, Valerie," he said, voice mockingly shocked, "what sort of mischief have you been up to?"

She could not fight him in the state she was in. She settled for a sneer, although it was a bit breathless from months without exercise. She'd rushed to the outside upon hearing his threats so quickly, she'd expended her energy. "Nothing, thanks to you."

He pouted a little harder. "And here I came to visit, only to find you've done the naughty without me. Whose is it?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall to support herself. "Why don't you think really, _really_ hard," she said. Her voice was snappish and pained beneath her sarcasm. "Don't tell me you can't remember."

Phantom focused on her stomach in deepening interest. He tilted his head. Then his eyes widened as his ghost sense went off in a flare of red smoke.

"…It's mine?" he said, voice unreadable.

Valerie nodded, but Dan did not need her affirmation to know.

For a second, the two stared at each other in silence, the emergency alarms whipping about them. The ghost's face contained an element of shock that was uncharacteristic for him. It widened his eyes and made him look younger.

Then Dan's body blurred, only to appear right in front of Valerie. Before she could react, he pushed her against the wall. His free hand moved to her stomach, where his gloved fingertips bunched around the material to feel the hard skin and large curve of her pregnant belly. "What a nice surprise," he said, staring into her terrified eyes. "To see you look so…domesticated."

"Get off of me," she snarled, voice wavering. She tried to move out from beneath him, but he held her fast with steel muscles.

He closed his eyes as he reveled in the way she trembled in unconcealed hatred beneath the caress of his fingers. "Its aura is strong like mine," he commented, almost proud. "Stronger than most full-ghosts. Not bad."

Her heart was pounding out a tribal rhythm as she desperately tried not to cry. "I didn't think you'd care," she whispered, her voice harsh. Nausea overwhelmed her. _Not again not again not again—_

His large palm was cold. She inhaled shakily, and he opened his glowing eyes. "Aww, Valerie," he said, reaching up to stroke the soft skin of her cheek, "it's like we're a family or something."

She flinched. A too-wide smile split his face, and he ran his hand a little harder down her jaw and neck to her collarbones. He said, "Just think, we can play house _all _the time. I'm starting to like this idea."

Her heart stopped at the idea. "Uh, no." She tried to push him away. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

He leaned in despite her struggles and whispered, eyes dark with multiple emotions, "They say a man always searches for a woman like his mother. My mother was incredibly strong and overprotective, just like you." His voice was whimsical, reminiscent. "But she was always too busy with work to love us."

Valerie stared at him, her breath shallow at his touch. She could not imagine any being loving the monster before her. "You're messed up," she whispered. "You don't love. You're insane."

Phantom nodded, but not to Valerie's comment. "Jazz would say I'm following the normal pattern. She'd approve of how things turned out between us, I think." He pulled out of his memories to smile at her. "And don't you look good like this! Not that you didn't look good before, but…" he leaned in, his lips touching her ear, "you're positively_ glowing_ with my energy."

She quickly turned her head away from his, breath hitching. "If you think you can break me like this," she told him, voice wavering only a fraction, "then you've got another thing coming. You just wait."

"Oh, I don't want to break you," he admitted, pulling away. "You wouldn't be fun if you got dull like all the other humans and ghosts. I want you to disobey me a little bit. You have to be strong and overprotective, remember? There's a pattern to these things."

Tears burned her eyes as she glared at him in rage. She knew she was just a toy, but he didn't have to rub it in. This was her _life_.

"I'm going to kill you one day," she whispered, leveling her gaze with his. "If it's the last thing I do."

She refused to cry before him. She was strong enough to control her emotions. She was strong enough not to give him exactly what he wanted.

He flickered his genuinely delighted eyes at her. "Well," he said, stroking his chin, "that poses a problem, because I suppose I can't kill_ you _now. I like the idea of our little…unexpected gift." He smiled something dark. "I'm the Ghost King now, you know. I need an heir to carry on my legacy. I need a queen to rule with."

Valerie's face twisted. "What—?"

"—I'll be sending some of my new servants to assist you for the rest of your pregnancy," he said. His smile was too wide for genuine concern. "You're what? Six, seven months along? Wouldn't want you to feel…alone in this time of need."

"No!" she said, teal eyes widening. She could imagine it now, Phantom's servants keeping her imprisoned, terrorizing the remains of the resistance. They'd all be horrifically ugly and worthy of nightmares. "No, I don't want your help. I don't want anything from you."

He looked a bit perturbed by her total denial of him. "But don't you want _me_?" he whispered to her, his large hands gripping her shoulders and digging deep.

"Absolutely not!" she said, voice hard.

He leaned in, his cold cheek brushing against hers. "You mean you didn't you feel _anything_ that night?" he whispered to her. Her arms locked up, but he held her fast. "I know I said it was to help you face your fears, but…I lied. Don't tell me you haven't felt the tension all this time."

She screamed in her mind. _Get off, get off, get off_—! Her mind flashed back to memories she'd rather forget. "Stop," she said, but her voice sounded small. "I never wanted—"

Phantom pressed against her, body oppressively wrapping about hers. "Yes you do. I think a part of you does want me," he said, almost sad. "I want you to want me."

In a blur of panic, she pushed against his chest in a sudden, bone-wrenching desperation to get away. "Don't touch me!" And then something strange happened. A searing, red light suddenly sparked from her palms and shot him backwards. He slammed hard against a surrounding building, its wall cracking in. Then he fell to the ground in a hard flail of limbs, remaining completely motionless, his fire hair falling into his face with the loss of power.

For one wild moment, no one moved. Valerie stared at her hand in shock, jaw dropping at the smoking red energy that still emitted from her fingertips. Ghost energy, she realized. She had just somehow used ghost energy.

Phantom grimaced as he tried to right himself, pain stretching his lips into a grimace. His fingers pushed against the burned skin of his chest. Pure confusion graced his face, even as his body healed from the attack. "What…how did you—?" He searched her over for any hidden weapons, only to grow more confused.

Valerie swallowed hard. The power she emitted was cold and from deep within her, storming from her veins. She'd never done that before. She'd never felt such power from inside.

Then Phantom's red eyes locked on to stomach, narrowing.

She instinctively backed away, covering her stomach with her hands. _Oh my God,_ her mind raced. _Oh my God, he's pissed._

He flew back over. "Nice trick," he said with a bit of a huff. His hand shot out, and he grabbed her chin, eyes dark. "How are you accessing its powers?"

Valerie's hands desperately moved to her waist, only to realize that she was not wearing her battle suit, nor her utility belt. "I don't know," she said, but he only clenched her chin tighter, making her wince. It hurt her to speak with his fingers pressing so hard on her face. "I don't know!"

For a second, a strange rage overcame Phantom. "Don't lie to me, Valerie." His free hand pressed against her wide belly, pushing uncomfortably on it. She gasped in pain. "How long have you been able to do this? What were you planning to do?"

She grabbed onto his forearms in a blind attempt to steady herself. "Nothing," she whispered. "I don't know, I've never tried to—!"

"—I'll kill it," he said, his hand sparking with red light against her stomach. It was almost a searing heat. "I'll kill it if you don't tell me what your plans were."

Fear and rage tore through her. For all he'd put her through, she could not allow him to murder her only weapon against him. If he killed the child, the resistance would be over. She grimaced as she used her grip on his forearms to steady herself. "You can't," she whispered, mind racing as she cringed at her own desperate words. "Y-you just said…you needed an heir." She tried to find any strain of humanity in his eyes and swallowed hard when she saw none. "If you kill it, your won't have your family. I could die too. You don't want me to die, do you?"

His handsome face twisted into anger.

Valerie feared he'd obliterate her right there and end it all—a small part of her wished he would. But then his anger melted away with a twitch of his face, and he began to laugh, running his hand through his hair. He pulled away from her, nearly allowing her to collapse to the ground. "Oh, you are truly too much! Only you, Valerie. Only you can call my bluffs."

She said nothing as she held onto the wall for dear life, glaring daggers of hatred and fear.

Phantom stared up at the sky above them, which was darkening. "Is this love?" he wondered out loud with a sigh. Then he turned back to her. A raw expression flickered across his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, masked under that familiar, demonic smirk. "Sometimes, you just make my heart _beat_."

Valerie crossed her arms to hide the shake in her hands. "You sure as hell don't make mine beat," she muttered.

He scoffed knowingly. "Then why can I hear your heart from here?" He changed subjects with a swish of his hand. "The real question is: why do you care so much if the child lives?" He moved towards her again, but this time with pure curiosity. "I'd have thought you would want it dead. I'd be doing you a favor to kill it."

She stalled for a second. He could not know her real reasons for keeping a child she never wanted. Then he really _would_ kill them.

Disgust poured through her, but she managed to say, voice hesitant, "I…want to keep it. It's a part of me, and I don't kill humans."

He looked deeply interested. "Even half?"

She swallowed hard, then gave a curt nod. "Even half."

"…Truly?"

"What, do you want it in _writing_ or something?" Everything about him made her want to pull out her hair and cry. He was mocking her. He had to be. "Yes, I'm keeping the damn thing. I would have gotten rid of it by now if I weren't."

At that, his lips split into a lopsided smile that was almost delighted. "Oh, I like nothing so much as you, I think. You're just one surprise after another, and that's why we get along so well. Because you," he said, brushing ringlets away from her face, "are the only thing that makes my afterlife tolerable."

She tried to swat his hand away. "Don't touch me," she snarled, tired of feeling cornered and unable to breathe.

Phantom sighed, mocking and tragic, "I do what I want, Val. I thought you knew this." He nevertheless pulled away, giving her reprieve. "But I'm afraid I must be leaving. As the new Ghost King, I have several responsibilities now. People to kill, revolts to push down, castles to storm. I am very busy beyond just Amity Park."

"Then keep busy," she said, "and don't come back. "

"And how can I do that," he mused airily, "when the mother of my child lives in such squalor? Now I have a reason to visit you in the future, and to make sure the baby isn't giving you too much trouble with those…manifesting powers."

"I don't need help," she said, lip curling in disgust.

"I'll send along my servants soon to watch over and protect you while I'm away," he said, as if he did not hear her. Then he made a grand gesture of bowing at the waist, his cape fluttering about him in dark shadows. "Until then."

And he stormed up into the sky, his entire body blitzing with an electric storm that ravaged the air.

For a second, nothing happened.

Valerie stood in the dark silence, shaking. A cry of rage rose in her throat, and she barely managed to clap a hand over her mouth before she screamed. The streets of Amity Park were abandoned now, the resistance having moved down into the underground bunkers to protect themselves. She was alone.

She was always alone.

Her back slid down the wall, to where she sat a bit awkwardly on the floor, hands falling to her bulging stomach. Tears burned her eyes. Her breath hitched as her mind recalled Dan's bruising touch and self-satisfied, domineering smirk, which made her feel more nauseated than she could stand. She had flashes back to that night nearly seven months ago and flinched, sinking into herself.

Maybe it was a horrible idea, to keep the child. Maybe she was kidding herself to think that a small kid would be able stop Phantom's rampages in the near future. Maybe she was stupid to think that she could gain some form of revenge through it.

And of course Phantom would make everything twenty times worse—whoever these Ghost King servants were, they were sure to destroy the remains of her sanity. The broken ghost shield would take weeks to rebuild, and no other resistance members were as strong at ghost hunting as she was.

The only good news was that Amity Park was still standing, and Phantom was gone for now.

She rubbed her stomach, as if to wipe away the feeling of Dan's hand. Her fingertips bunched around the rough material of her shirt as she closed her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered mindlessly to the ghost child within her, who had somehow given her the power to push Dan away—if only for a while. She'd had excessively wavering affections for it, especially in the last couple of months. She felt a little silly speaking to it.

But then something tickled at the back of her brain, prickling the hair on the nape of her neck with sudden consciousness.

An overwhelming sense of concern and love flooded through her. _Welcome,_ the presence said.

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><p><em><strong>AN**__: Hope you liked my characterization of both Dark Dan and Valerie. I struggled a bit, because I didn't want Valerie to sound like a stereotypical victim, and I didn't want Dan to sound like a stereotypical villain. Let me know how I did and if you'd like me to continue this mini-story in another update. _

_Also, I uploaded a separate Dan and Valerie story titled Cancelling the Apocalypse. Be sure to check it out if you haven't already!_

_Thanks for reading,  
>Lightning Streak<em>

**Please review! I take requests and ideas. **


	6. Just Following Orders

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_God, I have the best reviewers ever. You guys gave me some really awesome, intellectual insight and plot ideas for the future. Big thanks to Invader Johnny, Cookieplzandthnx, Above the Winter Moonlight, WithAnAngel, nikodark, Yasz1221, Brandie, lightshadow101, Xand'r Coldhearted, and Zanza Flux! _

_Shot 6 Summary: Valerie makes a demand that Dan can't refuse. Genre: Romance/humor, Rating: T_

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><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 6: Just Following Orders**

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><p>The hot sun glimmered on the dirt and twisted metal debris of the Wasteland. All was silent.<p>

Then the winds picked up; explosions in the distance boomed closer. Shouting voices raised. A black shadow blurred past at over 500 miles an hour, followed quickly by a dark red one.

Cyclones raged under the lifting force of Valerie's jet sled as she stormed through the wreckage.

"Get back here!" she yelled at Phantom, throwing grenades. He was too fast; they exploded before they hit him.

But Phantom suddenly stopped in the air, spinning around and raising his hands. A large barrier surrounded him, seething with red energy. Valerie nearly slammed into the barrier and had to pull up sharp to avoid it. "Holy—!" Her jet sled groaned as she flipped backwards , whining it down from hundreds of miles an hour to a dead stop. Then she stopped, floating parallel with Phantom, breathing hard.

He watched her struggle with dark, amused eyes. "Nice reflexes," he praised.

Her lip curled down. A little harder than necessary, she pushed her foot against a button on her jet sled; a sharp laser shot towards the barrier and slammed into it with a high-whine.

Dan's nose scrunched. "Oh, please," he complained. "Not the lasers again. They're more annoying than anything."

"No, _you're_ more annoying than anything." She nevertheless gave it up and un-holstered a blaster that recalibrated into a sharp assault rifle. Stinging, magenta power surged from its barrel, but everything bounced off Phantom's barrier without even a spark. "Dammit," she whispered under her breath. Her mind raced, going over every weapon in her arsenal. What would work? What would work?

He smiled something awful. "My power's been growing lately. Can you tell?"

Valerie glared at him and muttered under her breath, "No shit." She would have to recalibrate her weapons again and redesign them with greater force to take down the barriers Phantom was putting up. Which meant that he had just been toying with her this whole time.

She frowned.

Dan's barrier died around him, and he raised an amused brow. "Honestly, Valerie," he mused. "why do you even try? You're getting worse."

In a last ditch attempt to fight him, she leveled a high-powered blaster at his chest. "Yeah?" she sneered at him, pulling the trigger. "Well, kiss my ass."

Phantom negated the blast with a careless one of his own. Without missing a beat, he tilted his head with a wide smirk. "I would love to," he said.

The Red Hunter gave him a bewildered and shocked look. For a second, the full connotation of his words did not sink in, but then her aim faltered as her face flushed. "Th-that wasn't…" she struggled for words, speech failing her. "I didn't mean that!"

"No," he shrugged, "but I did." He moved closer, blurring until he was nearly nose to nose with her, standing on the edge of her jet sled. He gave her his best bedroom eyes, dark and sensual. "You want me to kiss it now?"

Her nose scrunched, and she shoved him off with an angry, flustered grunt. "No, you idiot!" She swiped at his head with her blaster, but he craned his neck away.

His face lifted up in a delighted smile, chuckling. "I don't know; you sounded pretty adamant about it earlier. I'm just following orders."

For a second, she could only stare at him, wondering exactly when their battle had given way to a flirt game again. It was a good thing they were far from any potential witnesses, because she had no idea how to explain this anymore. "You're such a jerk," she complained, trying to fight down the heat that colored her face a deep red. Her fingers shook a bit as she readjusted her grip on her ecto-blaster.

"And you're such a tease," he shot back. "Honestly, if you don't want me to kiss your ass, you shouldn't demand that I do."

Valerie opened her mouth to argue, but then clicked it shut.

He had a point.

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><p><strong>AN:** _I've noticed this collection tends to boomerang between hardcore drama/angst and lighthearted humor. Talk about bipolar, lol. It's like these drabbles are my own recovery sessions from writing dark stuff. _

_Speaking of hardcore drama, I'm working on Aftermath Part 3! It may not be the next update, but it expect it soon. _

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_

**Please review! I also love ideas and requests. **


	7. Karma

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Invader Johnny, Cookieplzandthnx, lightshadow101, and Xand'r Coldhearted for reviewing last chapter! Currently compiling all of my one-shot requests, lol. _

_Summary Shot 7: Phantom challenges Pariah Dark for the position of Ghost King and loses. Badly. Dan!whump. Genre: Horror/Drama. Rating: T._

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><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 7: Karma**

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><p>Valerie knew something was wrong. The Wastelands surrounding Amity Park had been silent for days—no sign of Phantom anywhere. She'd even scoped out far beyond the borders of the Midwest, wondering if perhaps Phantom had simply found a new haunt to torment.<p>

Imagine her surprise when a full week passed by without even the slightest blip of his existence on her radar.

"I don't get it," she paced in the central headquarters of the resistance. A concerned Vlad and Damien Gray watched her. "He never goes this long without attacking."

"Maybe," Vlad suggested helplessly, "he's grown tired of us?"

"Maybe he knows not to mess with us," Damien suggested, giving an appreciative nod to his daughter.

Valerie huffed and waved off the silent compliment. "Or maybe he's gathering resources," she said. "Armies. Relics. Maybe that's why he's been gone."

"Then he can stay gone," Damien sat back in his seat. He rubbed the stump of his left arm—where he'd lost it in a building collapse from Phantom's trigger-happiness. It still tingled from time to time, even after years. "If we never saw him again, it'd be too soon."

The Red Hunter looked pained as she stared at her broken father. "Look, I want to believe he's gone too, but…" She shook her head. "This isn't his normal pattern. And whatever the reason is, it doesn't spell anything good for us. He's either getting ready for a planned strike, or something bigger than him took him out."

Damien furrowed his gray eyebrows. "Who's possibly stronger than Phantom?"

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><p>Their answer came nearly two weeks later, when the entire world suddenly darkened into a hazy, swirling green.<p>

"Shields up!" Valerie cried into her comm, swooping on her jet sled to quickly check the shield towers protecting Amity Park. "Ghost invasion! We still need eyes on Tower 9, stat! And where the hell is my perimeter patrol?"

"Valerie," came Vlad's hesitant voice, "we need you back at base. We don't know exactly what—"

"—Are you kidding me?" she snapped. "I've seen this before. So have you. We're in the freakin' Ghost Zone. This is Pariah Dark's doing, I know it." She tried to hide the unsettling level of fear she felt. Pariah Dark had been a huge problem ten years ago; but that was when they had a much less malevolent Danny Phantom willing to fight on their side. "We gotta pull all the stops on this one, or we're gonna get our butts kicked."

"But we sealed Pariah Dark," Vlad's voice rose in worry in her ear. "How could he have possibly gotten out?"

"Probably Phantom," Valerie huffed, jumping off of her jet sled as she neared Ghost Tower 9. Her feet hit the metal floor, and she began to run. This tower was always the weakest link in the Shield. They could not afford weak links. "Some attempt at an alliance."

"But Phantom fights _alone_," Vlad stressed. "He always has."

"Yeah, well, maybe he doesn't anymore." She grimaced as she banged on the Tower's controls, trying to force the connections in the box to work. The small glitches in the lights cleared into straight beam. She eyed it suspiciously, daring it to fault in her presence.

"I'm afraid this situation is not what it seems, Valerie. We need to keep sharp watch. These ghosts may be fighting each other, and we cannot afford to get involved."

From the other side of the barrier, Valerie could see a dark form materializing in, along with several others. "We got a serious problem either way," she breathed. Her mind was racing. As long as that barrier held out, Amity Park would be safe.

But if Pariah Dark directed his power at them….She pushed a button on her suit's arm. Her dark red suit began to glow, and before her materialized a sleek, silver weapon. She grabbed onto the hilt and powered it up. The barrel of the small cannon began to whine up. "We need our strike force around the perimeter, now. If the barrier drops, we're toast."

"We've already deployed forces," Vlad affirmed. "Your father is leading their efforts."

And if Valerie squinted, she could see her fellow resistance members pouring from the heavy gates of the headquarters, marching with heavy assault weapons to the barrier's edge. "Okay," she breathed. She jumped back onto her jet sled. "Okay, we got this."

The entire world rumbled. Before her eyes materialized a very large ghost—the very one she had feared. His large, heavily muscled limbs cast dark shadows over Amity Park. "Puny humans!" boomed out the thundering voice of Pariah Dark, "I am here to speak to your leader. I demand that she face me beyond this putrid barrier. Now."

The entire city of Amity Park paused at his words. The mayor of Amity Park was not female.

Pariah noticed their hesitation, and he growled, "The one who challenges Phantom—I will speak to her. Is she not your leader?"

Valerie froze, her teal eyes narrowing in confusion. _She_ was the one who challenged Phantom. "What the hell?" she whispered under her breath, her heart beginning to pound.

The resistance members along the perimeter looked up to her as she floated on her jet sled. She hesitated for only a second, knowing that she had a responsibility to protect Amity Park at all costs. Then she pulled out a blaster from the holster on her hip as she soared towards the barrier. She flew beyond it, praying that her comrades would be able to cover her if anything went wrong. "Yeah?" she called out, voice rough and snappish. "What do you want?"

The ghost before was impressively tall—massive from every angle. Valerie could almost smell the power that rolled off of him in waves. It was suffocating. It made her hands shake, even though she told herself she was not afraid. She hovered at eye-level, maintaining her gaze with his and trying not to feel like an insect.

He stared at her with his one, good eye. It was piercing. "As you may know, little human, I show no mercy to those who challenge me." He motioned behind him carelessly. Skeleton servants grimaced as they pulled a large, black box forward. "I come bearing a gift to celebrate my new reign."

"A gift," Valerie repeated, voice in disbelief. She eyed the box—it was metal, she realized in surprise. A cage.

"To reiterate my supremacy as King, I have defeated this world's greatest foe." A noise, like a chuckle, rose in his throat. Pariah Dark carelessly flipped the cage over. Its side split open under the pressure, and from the cage tumbled a blur.

A body slammed hard onto the ground with a strange crunch. "Behold," Pariah declared with a sneer, "the _great _and_ powerful_ Danny Phantom."

For a second, Valerie failed to connect Pariah's words with the sight before her. Then she stared in increasing horror at what had been her worst enemy. Dan Phantom was curled in on his side, his proud jumpsuit gone and replaced with torn and threadbare pants that barely remained on his form. His blue skin was so pale, it was nearly white, his arms tied at the wrists.

He looked emaciated and weak, as if all the afterlife had been sucked out of him. His fire hair did not float about his face, but instead drooped into his eyes and down his shoulders, where it matted over a mess of crusted, green blood. He trembled on the ground, face twisted in an open expression of pain. He did not look aware of his own name, much less his surroundings.

"Do with him what you will," the Ghost King said. "I care not how you eliminate him, for he is no longer a threat to me."

"What did_ you_ do to him?" Valerie said, almost in awe. "How did you—?" she cut herself off, half-afraid of the answers.

"I ripped out his power core," said Pariah Dark with a self-satisfied tilt of his lips. "And then I revealed his own inferiority. I thought about sending you his head on a platter, but I knew that you would want the honors."

Valerie was beginning to understand. Pariah Dark had done them no favors. No, he had simply provided Amity Park with an example of his own power—by defeating the very enemy that Amity Park had believed was the most powerful.

Valerie's eyes darkened, realizing that she had no way to win against the Ghost King. She barely managed to fight off Phantom.

"Shall I provide a demonstration of how low I can bring my enemies?" Pariah asked. Before anyone could respond, he kicked Phantom with his boot. The beaten ghost flinched, a muffled sound strangling from out of his broken jaw. "Get up," the King snapped.

And slowly, without any hint of resistance, Phantom struggled to his hands and knees, limbs shaking. His head hung low, his white hair limp and matted. He looked strangely young and vulnerable.

"Now bow to the human insects," the Ghost King said gleefully. "Come on, little conqueror."

Phantom breathed hard. His limbs shook as he tried to lower himself. It was awkward for him, as his arms were tied to together, forcing him to mash his wrists at a painful angle on the ground. He took too long, because the King kicked him down with a heavy boot. He crashed back onto the ground.

"Again," Pariah said, enjoying Phantom's pain and the shocked faces of the humans. "Faster."

Phantom's face streaked with desperate tears as he tried again, a muffled noise escaping from his throat. He raised his head as he forced his body to get back up to his hands and knees. This time, his movements were quicker. He who had once destroyed the world bowed low to Valerie and the resistance at Pariah's command. His matted hair fell about his trembling shoulders, blocking his face.

Valerie backed away on her jet sled, eyes uneasy. "What is this?" she demanded. "Some weird freak show? I don't get high off shit like this, ghost."

"Phantom is an example for you," called out Pariah Dark, and his voice echoed throughout the realm. "No one can stand against me! I destroy all. I conquer all and bend reality to my will. Nothing is impossible for me."

Then Pariah Dark reached out before him. His large hand touched the barrier around Amity Park, and it dissipated, breaking like glass under his touch. "This trick was interesting the first time," he hummed, "but it breeds too much resistance."

The glass shards shattered around them, forcing many to duck and cover.

"You are now all subjects of my reign. Kneel before your king."

Valerie stood frozen on her jet sled, eyes wide. This ghost was powerful—insanely so if he had managed to trash Phantom with such little effort and take down their barrier.

Pariah's lip curled downward. "I said, _kneel_!" He stomped his foot. Even the air rumbled in waves, knocking Valerie down. Her knee hit the base of her jet sled with a hard impact that made her wince.

All of the other resistance members and citizens of Amity park stood little chance. Those who were not knocked down by the wave of power quickly fell to their knees, dropping their weapons. The buildings groaned and swayed.

Then all was silent.

"Better," Pariah sniffed, surveying his newly conquered city. "I shall return to your realm to collect tribute and tax as I expand my empire. Do not attempt to resist me, little humans."

Then a great cloud of green smoke surrounded the King, and he disappeared. Amity Park remained within the Ghost Zone. All fell silent but for the quick, wheezing gasps of one broken Danny Phantom, whose limbs relaxed into the dirt without the presence of the Ghost King.

"…Is he gone?" one of the resistance members whispered fearfully. They slowly began to rise up from their kneeling, arms over their heads in suspicious fear. A few grabbed onto their blasters, knuckles white.

Valerie grimaced as she stood, her knees still stinging from hitting the hard metal of her jet sled. "I think so," she said, looking down at the tracker on her suit. "I'm not picking up his signature anymore. But…" She looked down at Phantom, who was still skewed across the ground. "Looks like this one is staying behind." She lowered her jet sled down to the ground and stepped off, eyes hard with several different emotions.

She and a few others from the resistance crowded about the broken form of Phantom, and they fell into a disturbed silence, caught between shooting him and holding out their hands.

He was lying on his stomach, his red eyes distant and clouded as he gasped for air. He did not look up at them, his cheek resting against the ground, his trembling fingers holding tight to the loose dirt of the ground. Some of the scrapes down his back had cracked open and begun to bleed a sluggish green.

"Maybe we should just put him out of his misery," one of the resistance members said hesitantly. "You know? I mean, damn. Look at him."

No one moved for a minute, staring at Phantom in complete disbelief. The ghost did not react to their presence; he hardly moved.

Then Damien Gray trudged to the front of the crowd and said, "We need to take advantage of the opportunity and destroy him while we can." He handed his daughter a blaster, nodding hard. "If anyone deserves this," he said, "it's you."

Valerie's hand encircled the handle of the weapon. It was heavy and cold. All of the resistance members stared at her in silence, waiting for her to make the move to forever end Phantom.

She raised the blaster and leveled it at the back of Phantom's head. She put her finger on the trigger, steeling her heart.

Then her face twisted. She shoved her combat boot under him and forced him over. "Look at me," she demanded. "I want you to see me do this."

Phantom's entire body gave way with little resistance. His jutting ribs shuddered with breaths as he lay on his back, completely at Valerie's mercy. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if he knew more pain was coming.

"Look at me!" she said, voice raising in irritation—and maybe something else.

Dan Phantom slowly opened his eyes at her command,

She re-aimed the barrel to shoot right between his eyes. "I've waited a long time for this," she said, forcing herself to remember every wrong he had ever committed. It wasn't hard. "I don't know what all Pariah dark did to you, but I'm going to finish it. You hear? I'm going to kill you now."

His clouded eyes struggled to pinpoint the source of Valerie's voice, but he managed to turn his head her way. His gaunt face was so marred with defeat that she hesitated pulling the trigger. No recognition of any kind sparked in his soulless eyes. He did not see her as Valerie Gray, but simply as part of a faceless mass.

For some time, they stayed that way, Valerie aiming the gun, Phantom staring up at the barrel with little understanding.

Valerie's hand began to tremble. Her finger slipped from the trigger. Then, eventually, she lowered the gun with a pouty huff.

She said nothing more for a time, and no one forced her to. She tried to re-aim the gun, only to grimace and then forcibly shove it back into her father's hands.

"I can't do this," she admitted quickly, backing away. She swallowed hard. "I…He's not…himself. It doesn't feel right. Something about this is wrong."

Her father tried to intervene. "Valerie, we might not get another chance like this to—"

"—To what?" she snapped. "Shoot a cripple? Look at him! He's not registering _anything_. He barely even shows up on my radar." She loosed out a sigh that turned to a groan, and she ran her hands through her ringlet hair. "This is pathetic. I can't do it. Not like this. Not when he can't account for his crimes."

She didn't want to admit that she was weak. That she felt pity, staring into the broken face of Phantom.

And slowly, the leaders of the resistance nodded. It would not be satisfying to kick Phantom while he was down. "But what should we do with him?" one asked hesitantly.

Valerie inhaled a deep, shaky breath. "I don't know—I guess lock him up back at headquarters for now. Pariah Dark said he ripped out Phantom's power core. I don't think he'll give us trouble." She could feel a headache coming on. "Maybe we can interrogate him for information once he…wakes up."

The thought twisted her stomach the wrong way. She didn't want to think about why.

Despite the defeat of Phantom, the green glow of the Ghost Zone reminded them just how deep in danger they truly were.

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><p><strong>AN:** _I decided this collection had enough Valerie whump, but not enough Dan whump. This was the result. I can't say I've seen any other TUEDan!whump stories in the archive, but this is at least my own first try at it. Let me know if should I continue this thread._

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_

**Please Review!**


	8. Karma Part 2

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_I got a lot of feedback on my last chapter, so I was inspired to expand "Karma" with a sequel! Thanks to Xand'r Coldhearted, Crystalmoon39, Cookieplzandthnx, Invader Johnny, Tacolady22, Above the Winter Moonlight, AmethystFlare3, WithAnAngel, lightshadow101, MsFrizzle, and Zanza Flux for reviewing! You are all amazing. _

_Karma Part 2: A broken Phantom rests in the resistance's cellar after being defeated by Pariah Dark. Valerie struggles with doing the right thing. Hurt!Dan. Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Friendship. Rating: T._

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><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 8: Karma Part 2**

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><p>Two hours after Pariah Dark left Amity Park, Phantom was sitting on a wall-side bench in the resistance's cellar, surrounded by a ghost barrier. The resistance had kept his hands tied out of paranoia.<p>

On a small table before him, they had placed a small bowl of pure ectoplasm—energy to bring his levels up just enough to interrogate him. But he did not touch it, or even acknowledge its presence. He leaned against the stone wall, his broken body trembling to even maintain his sitting position. His red eyes were still wide and unfocused.

One of the leaders, Vlad Masters, stared at Phantom from beyond the barrier, pressing his hand against the green energy that swirled strong. "What did you do this time?" he whispered, voice churning with numerous emotions. The older man—truly old now, worn and tired—stared at the being that he had once thought could be his protégé. Perhaps in many ways, he was. All that talk about world conquest and ruling, and now here they were, dominated by their own madness, surrounded by the debris.

Phantom did not respond or acknowledge his presence. His breaths were uneven and wheezing as he closed his eyes.

"Do you even know your name?" Vlad asked, trying to keep his voice level.

When Phantom did not respond again, the older man exhaled softly in a sigh and a groan. He walked through the ghost barrier with little effort, his steps a bit hesitant. He carried no weapons with him, no armor. For the first time in ten years, he stood in the same room with Dan without an intent to fight.

Obviously, Dan was in no condition to fight back.

He pulled a small chair over to the table, placing himself face-to-face with Phantom. "You know," Vlad said with a suffering wince as he settled into the chair, his hands resting against his kneecaps, "it appears we've both seen better days. These old knees don't work as well anymore. You've given me quite a few gray hairs too."

Only the table rested between them now.

Phantom's eyes slid towards Vlad. His gaze remained empty and soulless, reacting only to the physical movement before him. He sat up slightly, the lines of his broad shoulders stooping forward in an attempt to bare more of his back than his stomach. Vlad realized it was a defensive move—designed to protect softer flesh from punishment.

Something about that hopeless acceptance of abuse left a strange taste of worry and pity in Vlad's mouth. He stared at Phantom, taking inventory of the several scrapes and bruises that ravaged his body. "Do you know me, Daniel?"

No reaction. Phantom simply stared down.

"Do you remember what happened to you—how you got here?"

Again, nothing. The exhale of Phantom's harsh breaths filled the silence, echoing in the small cellar.

Pity wormed into Vlad's gaze as he stared at the broken ghost. "You're no use to us like this, you know." He glanced down at the bowl of ectoplasm and grabbed the spoon beside it, holding it out to Phantom. "Come on," he coaxed, "we need you to regain a little energy so that you don't fade out. We need to ask you some questions."

Dan only looked at the bowl of ectoplasm, its shadows and lights dancing across his empty face. His still-tied hands hung uselessly in his lap.

Vlad tried a different tactic. "Do you understand that I'm trying to help you? You have nothing to fear here. I need you to wake up from this…shock state."

When Dan again did nothing, the old man realized something. "Maybe," he mused, "you are too weak to do it yourself."

He scooped some of the ectoplasm up with the spoon, sighing. "I suppose I could…" His voice trailed off in hesitancy as he raised the spoon and gently tilted it against Dan's lips. The ghost's locked jaws did not pry open. Vlad quickly pulled away, but damage was already done. Ectoplasm ran against Dan's teeth, and it slipped from his mouth to dribble down his chin, then onto his chest, running in trails down his bare, blue skin. Nothing, not even anger or embarrassment, registered in his face as Vlad stared, eyes wide.

The old man set the spoon down, disturbed by the strange display of resistance despite Phantom's catatonia. Was this some sort of tantrum? A childish streak of pride? A sign of how far Phantom had already faded? He rubbed his temples, some hopeless humor tilting his lips. "You just have to make things difficult, don't you."

Again, silence.

But as he contemplated what to do to convince Phantom to eat, he heard noise from beyond the barrier. "Vlad, what the hell are you doing down here?" called a female voice, rough with concern. Footsteps echoed against the walls. Valerie soon appeared, and she put a hand on her hip, eyes hard. "We've been looking for you everywhere. Get out of there."

The older man did not turn to look at Valerie, simply out of the instinctive belief that Dan could still lash out at any second. "I am simply experimenting," he said, somewhat distant as he held the spoon in disappointment. "With little success, I'm afraid."

Valerie looked at Dan with a critical eye. "What's he done now?" she asked wearily, pacing at the edge of the barrier with her hand on the hilt of a blaster attached to her hip. "Is he…frothing at the mouth or something? What the hell is that on his face?"

"He would not eat, so I thought to give him a hand," Vlad tried to explain with a grimace. "He's in shock, practically catatonic."

Valerie gave Vlad a strange, suspicious look. "And _why_ are you trying to help him? You're not on another 'I-found-a-pawn' kick are you?"

Vlad had the grace to be embarrassed. "You did say we may be able to use him for information," he said hesitantly. "And I thought that maybe… if we train him properly, we could employ him on the strike force to take down Pariah Dark."

"You're kidding," Valerie deadpanned. "Dammit, Vlad. He's not some lost puppy. He's a psychotic murderer with world destruction on his resume! If he's fading out, then just…let him fade. It'll be less problems for us."

Vlad leaned down and grabbed an old blanket from the ground. "He's too valuable for that, and you know it." He stood and roughly tried to wipe the ectoplasm from Dan's face and chest. The ghost did not resist Vlad, but he flinched, red eyes widening. His breaths came more harshly—whether in pain or fear, Vlad did not know.

Valerie's nose scrunched in worry. "I'd get out of there. This has bad idea written all over it."

"Well," the old man said, a strain of irritation in his voice, "you said it yourself, he barely registers on your radar. I for one will not allow him to fade out in the name of pride. He knows too many things we could use, at the very least."

Before Valerie could protest further, Vlad's eyes began to glint with a new idea, and he turned to Valerie. "Why don't _you _try it? We need him to cooperate with us. Maybe he'd react to you with more compliance. My sources say he bowed to you before Pariah, after all."

"Wait, you want me to what?" she said, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"He needs to eat, but I can't get him to."

She repeated dumbly, "And you want _me_ to feed him?"

"Yes. At least try it. "

Valerie stared at Phantom in disbelief. "I've wanted him dead for ten years, and now you want me to nurse him back to health? No way. He can fade out for all I care." She turned around to hide her conflicted expression. She crossed her arms, biting her lip. "He's not worth it."

The ghost's face twitched in pain, but he did not look up or say anything.

"Valerie, this could be to our advantage. Don't squander this. I know you didn't kill him when you had a chance."

"It wasn't so that I could force-feed him!" she huffed, teal eyes flashing. "I've got a hell of a lot better things to do. And so do you. My dad's still waiting for you upstairs."

"Then Phantom will fade out," Vlad said, standing up to his full height. Although his physique had stooped a bit from age, he was still impressively tall—a dark shadow. He dropped the crumpled blanket, glowing with streaks of ectoplasm, back on the ground. "If he fades, then we will have lost our only chance to gain information. You know we can't afford this. Not now. Not with Pariah Dark on the loose." Vlad's clouded blue eyes were predatory, searing into Valerie. "Now help me out here. I will go to your father if you take my place and try to get him to _eat_."

Her nostrils flared, knowing that the business her father wished to discuss with Vlad was worth his cooperation. How annoying. "You and your deals," she muttered angrily.

"Just try. Please."

She hesitated for second or two, weighing her options. She knew Vlad was right—and she did want to interrogate Phantom. It was just that her pride bristled at the thought that she would have do something as mundane as feed the ghost. Eventually, she set her jaw with her signature stubbornness, her spine straightening in defiance. "Fine, I'll do it in the interest of the resistance. But you get your butt back upstairs _now_, okay?"

Some kind of relief softened Vlad's face. "Thank you, Valerie. You are truly honorable." He walked out from beyond the barrier, leaving Phantom and the bowl of ectoplasm to sit in waiting for her. "I'll check back in when I can. I do hope you have more luck than me."

"Yeah, yeah," the ghost hunter snapped, passing through the barrier with a paranoid expression. "You're not welcome."

"And don't push him too much!" Vlad called back as he exited up the stairs, leaving Valerie alone with Phantom and humming barrier.

She was stone-silent as she sat down in front of Dan. She grabbed onto the spoon with a clenched fist. Yeah, right. Like she wasn't going to waste a perfectly good opportunity to push Dan.

Her old enemy inhaled a shaky breath.

"So I don't know what your deal is," she told him, eyeing him. "And I don't really care what happened to you. But if we're gonna waste resources on getting you better, and if I have to be a part of this, then you'll repay the favor. You hear me?"

Phantom did not look up at her, his eyes distant, his shoulders bowed forward.

Valerie frowned. This nonreactive husk was her once-dreaded enemy? With a sudden growl of irritation, she slammed the bowl back on the table. Ectoplasm sloshed alongside the sides. "Look at me!" she demanded. "Talk! Do something!"

He did not move. She grabbed his chin and forced it up up. He winced, her fingers digging into a fading bruise along his jaw. "Do you know who I am?" she asked roughly, eyeing him straight. "Do you recognize me?" His own gaze did not align with hers, instead staring out hopelessly beyond her right shoulder, to the walls. Valerie snapped, "_Look at me_."

He looked at her. His red eyes were still clouded over in some kind of subconscious ignorance of himself and his surroundings, but something dully sparked in his eyes. Recognition. For the first time since the Ghost King had thrown him at her feet, he was aware of something. A dawning horror tightened his face and further locked the lines of his body. She could feel him swallow hard beneath her hand.

Valerie gave him no slack. "Talk to me," she said, voice hard. "I want to hear you fess up. It's your fault Pariah Dark's out, isn't it?"

The ghost's lips trembled, but he said nothing. He stared at her helplessly, his eyes sweeping over her face the way one would stare at caskets or ruined cities.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Valerie demanded.

Reluctance overcame him, but then his eyes squeezed shut. He slowly forced his mending jaw to open. Valerie stared at him in confusion when she realize he wasn't trying to speak. Then she saw it, the ooze of ectoplasmic blood, the shredded edges.

His tongue was cut out.

She released his chin as if it were on fire, grabbing her hand. "Holy shit," she breathed, disgusted. "That's—I mean…"

Power gone, language gone, Dan could only look down as he struggled to close his mouth. A muffled sound from the back of his throat. It sounded like a cry, but Valerie wasn't sure.

For the second time that day, Valerie found herself hesitating in Phantom's presence—and not in hatred or fear. Instead, she felt some kind of strange nausea when she stared at him. It wasn't pity, she tried to tell herself.

She swallowed hard to confirm her own tongue was still whole and perfectly attached, disturbed by the visual of his empty mouth. She tried convince herself that nothing she felt was in relation to how much of an injustice Pariah had done against Phantom, for the sight before her was one of strange hopelessness from which she could gain no enjoyment. The Phantom before her could not even speak for himself. Of course she felt no pity for him. Of course she felt no sudden need to tell him that she'd kick Pariah Dark's ass for what he had done.

Of course not.

The sudden injustice she felt for her own self was not lost. She had always imagined different ways their final battle would go—she knew they would have to have one sometime. In some daydreams, Phantom died, and in others, she did. But it was all very fair, exploding with the full breadth of their powers and sharp tongues. She knew at some level that neither she nor Phantom would be satisfied with any other end. They had fought too long, too hard now to give the other anything but an honorable death.

And now…

"Why didn't Pariah just end you?" she whispered, teal eyes stormy with several emotions.

Phantom looked away, unable to hold her gaze.

The silence was painful, his strange vulnerability even more so. Valerie sat down at the table and eyed him. "Well, this explains why you won't eat." She bit her lip. "Can you regenerate at all?"

He shrugged noncommittally, eyes dead.

In reply, she grabbed the spoon off the table and stared in disgust at the swimming ectoplasm in the bowl. It looked about as appetizing as dirt, a foreshadowing of the only life that it could lend Phantom. She was beginning to realize the true weight of the responsibility with which Vlad had charged her. This was not only a battle to keep Phantom in existence. This was also a battle to wake him up from the weird worthlessness with which he saw himself.

"Look, I won't…laugh or anything." She stared at him uncertainly for the first time. "But you're fading out. If you want to stay in existence, you need to eat this."

He lifted miserable eyes to her. _Why?_ He seemed to ask. His face pulled back in pain, lips curling into a strange grimace, as if he would laugh or cry.

Valerie struggled to understand exactly what he was asking from her. "Because I can't just let you fade out if you know stuff about Pariah Dark." Dan flinched even at the name. "We need your help to defeat him now."

Fear and hopelessness overtook him, stooping his once-powerful shoulders. He shook his head, a strangled noise coming from his throat.

"We need you," Valerie repeated, eyes hard. But she wasn't angry with him. She held her gaze with his determinedly. "Do you understand? We _need_ you. Everything you've got."

His tied hands shook with the effort to press against a strange scar on his stomach, where Valerie could guess Pariah had forcibly removed Phantom's power core. It was a messy, shredded patch of uneven skin that stretched over emaciated ribs and stormed down his right side. "I'm not talking about that," she said. "Although if you regenerate, maybe that would be helpful. I'm talking about what you _know_."

He gave her a helpless look again, moving his jaws. A small strand of pride hit him—he could still speak, but having a cut-out tongue would severely distort his speech. She rolled her eyes. "Geez, I'm not stupid. I'll get you a pen and paper. Just as soon as I know you won't fade out."

Phantom exhaled heavily, giving her a worn and tired look.

"I know, I know. I'm such a slave driver." Valerie huffed a bit. "Now let's get this done. I don't feel like forcing this down your throat, so work with me. Can you eat by yourself?"

He was barely strong enough to sit up on his own. He tried to raised his bound hands to reach for the spoon, but his arms shook with the effort. The action required too much. Something, like defeat and shame and total worthlessness, overcame him. He slumped, breathing hard, his eyes darting to the floor.

Valerie could see the raw agony on his face at the realization that he could not even lift his own arms. It made him look like a kicked puppy or a child worn too hard by hardship.

Some sense of decency spurned her forward. She lifted the spoon, filling halfway with ectoplasm. "Look," she sighed, speaking both to him and herself, "I'll help you this time, okay? I just…won't tell anyone if you won't."

His pained look deepened, and she realized how poorly she had phrased her statement. She squelched her sudden need to apologize and only raised the spoon up to Dan's lips, awkwardly silent.

He hesitated for a moment, as if questioning whether the Valerie before him was simply a hallucination, or some mocking scheme. Then he squeezed his red eyes shut, and a small noise—like a moan—rumbled from his throat. He slowly unhinged his jaw with a wince and leaned forward. He tentatively bit down on the spoon before him.

Neither were quite prepared for what happened next.

Dan flinched as the ectoplasm hit the burning nerve endings of his cut-out tongue. He moaned a strangled note that raised into a cry, pressing his bloodless lips together in an attempt to keep himself from wailing. Ectoplasm slipped between his lips. His eyes brightened with tears as he breathed hard, his nostrils flaring in pain.

Valerie almost winced for him as she watched him swallow hard, unable to laugh or sneer at the pathetic display.

The fact that he could barely even perform the simple act of eating had stolen away any remaining pride from him. He exhaled a shaky breath, fearful of the bowl before him and unable to look at Valerie straight in the eye.

"Okay," she said, nodding hard. It was as close to positive feedback as she could get. "Okay, you got it." She looked down at the bowl of ectoplasm, still mostly full. She grimaced. They had a long way to go if it hurt Dan that much. "Now let's do it again."

If she looked closely, she could see the bruises on Dan's face lighten just a bit, reacting to the immediate source of energy. But he was already exhausted, as though he had just been wrung through the worst of tortures. He gave her a worn look.

She simply raised a brow in return. "Don't give me that. You deserve this. You deserve a lot worse for what you've done."

His red eyes were still a bit empty of self-awareness, but a twinge of pain entered them. _I know_, he seemed to say from every line in his body. He slumped a bit more, the hope bleeding out of him. He looked as if he were waiting for her to lash out at him, to show just what he really deserved.

But whether he truly remembered his misdeeds, or whether he was reacting simply out of recent habit, Valerie did not know. It bothered her, that she did not know how much of the Phantom before her remembered their past. At least he did seem to know her on an instinctive level.

She moved the spoon through the thick ectoplasm, mind spinning. This was all horribly intimate, between her feeding him and him being so openly vulnerable. She almost felt awe when she thought about it. Was this reality? Was she really hand-feeding what remained of her worst enemy?

And was he really cooperating?

Dan had not willingly eaten for Vlad, but he would for her. That he would endure undignified pain for _her_—it left her feeling confused and hesitant, because something about that was sacred. So she raised the spoon again with the weight of a great responsibility.

He looked at the spoon with great suspicion, eyes flickering back to hers in a silent plea.

"Come on, cowboy up," she told him, but her words were without true fire. "You know you can do this."

He looked at her brokenly, and Valerie huffed, not sure how to respond. "What, you think this is _fun_ for me? I'm not a total bitch, no matter what you think. I want this over as much as you do. If we get it done now, you'll heal up and we don't have to do it again."

He inhaled shakily, and a suspicious hope shined in his eyes like that of a beaten dog's.

She tilted the spoon against his mouth, trying to help him from making more movements than necessary. She prayed no one walked down the steps to the cellar to see what she was doing. "Come on, Phantom."

Something about her own hesitancy and her setting aside of pride forced Dan forward. He bit down again on the spoon and tried to quickly swallow this time around, shuddering. His eyes watered, then tears slipped down his blue cheeks silently as he fought not to gag the substance up in pain. Ectoplasm bubbled and dripped down his chin as it squeezed out from between his shaking lips. A soft moan wheezed in time with his breaths.

Valerie could not look away, even though a part of her felt that she should. She almost gave him words of encouragement, but she was horrible with words and didn't know what to say anyway without throwing in an insult to hide her own uncertainty. So she waited patiently for him to re-center himself, feeling more and more awkward as she watched him swallow hard and then gasp hard for air he didn't need. Then she started the whole process over again.

Eventually, they fell into some kind of silent rhythm, leaving their partnership and its undignified conditions as some unspoken truce. She tried to tilt the spoon in different ways in hopes that one way would make it easier for him.

By the time they finished nearly an hour later, Dan's lips and chin were glowing green from ectoplasm he still had gagged up. It ran down his throat and his heaving chest. But the slightest of glows had begun to form around him again as new energy began to circulate in his system.

Valerie did not want to admit she was satisfied by Phantom's progress. The tracker on her suit now registered his presence, which meant that he was unlikely to fade out now. Even if he were potentially on the verge of collapsing into unconsciousness. "Okay," she said tiredly, "we're done. You can relax now."

He closed his eyes, and excess tears streaked down his face from the pain that still radiated in his mouth. The lines in his body loosened in relief as he leaned back against the wall.

Valerie sighed, eyeing him and the sticky ectoplasm that now coated his entire front in splatters. "And…you're a total mess. Of course." She imagined this was not entirely unlike caring for a small child. Vlad would most likely tease her for being a horrible caretaker that took childish revenge on a helpless cripple, jabbing in that irritating way he always did. If she were lucky, maybe he would genuinely thank her later.

_He better thank me_, Valerie thought grimly. She never thought she'd have to stoop so low with her worst enemy, just to keep him alive.

Dan's face still ran with tears from the pain radiating in his mouth. His entire body shook with exhaustion. But he stared at Valerie with a strange gaze. Perhaps it was awe or gratefulness or embarrassment.

It looked odd on him, mostly because she had never seen him show such emotion.

"Yeah, yeah," she said to wave away his thoughts, standing up. She didn't want to think about what he was thinking. She picked up the dirty blanket off the floor and tried to find a place on it that wasn't already dirty. "You defeated the bowl of ghost soup. Now let's get you cleaned up before Vlad comes back and sees the mess I made."

She was hesitant to touch him, but she knew it had to be done. It wasn't right to leave him helplessly lying in sticky ectoplasm—she noticed no one had even bothered to provide him with a shirt. So she began to wipe off the excess ectoplasm from his face, trying to adhere to a higher code of honor than her own pride.

For a second, Valerie worried that perhaps she had infringed too far on _his_ pride—that he would bare his fangs and try to bite her. But when he nuzzled into her hand, starving for positive attention, she blinked in surprise.

Dan closed his eyes and reveled in the way her fingers lightly pressed against his cheek and chin, soaking up his tear streaks. Only the thin blanket separated her skin from his, and he could feel her heat, which warmed his battered face. It felt good.

Valerie's hesitated in shock. She swallowed hard, her mind firing with too many thoughts and questions and fears that someone would walk down to the cellar and see this. Dan was obviously half out of his mind from the pain—he probably didn't even know what he was doing and would regret it later. "Come on, Phantom," she told him, trying to harden her voice against him. It came out a bit soft as she pulled away. "You're still a mess, and I can't have you falling asleep on me." She didn't know what else to call it. She didn't want to think about how affectionate his action actually was, or how strangely easy it would have been to stay that way.

He exhaled softly and nodded the slightest fraction, exhausted disappointment drooping his eyes. With his admission, Valerie swept the edge of the blanket down his neck to his collar bones, feeling the solidness of his presence and the small warmth that emanated from him. This was a person, she realized for the first time. Phantom was a _person_.

Dan's entire body relaxed under Valerie's calloused touch, and his open, wide red eyes lifted up to hers with an uncharacteristic vulnerability.

_I won't tell anyone if you won't._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Hurt!Dan is fun to write. After watching TUE again, I'm convinced that it's canon for humanoid ghosts to have similar organ structure as a human. Most of the ghosts that Dan Phantom fought had been permanently injured in some way—paralysis, amputation, etc. Hence Dan's own karma coming back to haunt him with Pariah cutting out his tongue. _

_So I guess this update could be considered a positive one, since it ends more…positively? I mean, no one's killing anyone. Let me know if you want another installment. I've also got several requests I need to update this collection with. Keep an eye out for those, along with Aftermath Part 3!_

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_

**Please review! I take ideas and requests. **


	9. Intermission: Bad Hair Days

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Invader Johnny, Zanza Flux, Xand'r Coldhearted, Crystalmoon39, Silverstone007, Cookieplzandthnx, AmethystFlare3, and lightshadow101 for reviewing. A Karma Part 3 is in the making, as per your request!_

_Shot 9 Summary: Valerie gets her hair cut short. Dan absolutely hates it. Genre: Humor/Romance. Rating: T. _

* * *

><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 9: Intermission: Bad Hair Days**

* * *

><p>Dan looked almost apoplectic. "What," he whispered in horror, "did you <em>do<em>?"

Valerie put a hand on her hips as she floated on her jet sled. "Nothing that I know of," she said. Her face twisted with something sneaky and smug. "But I'll take fully responsibility if it puts that look on your face."

"Your hair," he breathed, rushing towards her. His hands reached out to touch her head until she smacked them away. "What did you do?"

"It was in my way," she said dryly, eying him with a great suspicion.

This ghost had faced nuclear bombs and multinational defense strikes without flinching—what was he so rattled about now? Was this just another ploy to distract her?

He managed to trail a finger across the short cut before Valerie wrenched his hand down. "Your curls," he said, voice halted. "They were beautiful. They're gone!"

"Yes," Valerie said slowly, as if talking to a small child, "I got a haircut." She purposely chose to ignore the fact that Phantom had thought her hair beautiful—that would just take her down another one of those scary paths that made her question things. Like his sanity, or her own.

A good ten inches of her tangled ringlets were gone, replaced by something that looked almost like a crew cut. Swift and efficient. _Bold,_ she thought.

"It's horrible!" Dan whined, lip curling down in displeasure. "It makes you look…guy…ish."

Valerie face-faulted. Her fingers began to twitch, itching to shoot him. "Yeah? Well, I'm gonna make you look ugly too. Not that you need help there."

"Please tell me you're at least keeping the skin-tight battle suit," he said, eyeing her. "Or I won't know what to call you anymore."

"It's my own damn life, and I'll do what I want with it," she huffed, a sculpted eyebrow raised. Oh yeah, he was definitely going to get his butt kicked hard today, especially for the battle suit comment. "It's your fault I had to cut my hair in the first place."

"I did _not_ demand that you shave your head," he said shortly. "I just demanded total control over Amity Park. Big difference."

"…Do you even understand how much of a pain you are to me?"

"Oh, come on." He pulled at the back of his hair, which was tied back into a ponytail that day. "I managed world conquest, and I didn't have to cut _my_ hair."

"Yeah, I don't think your mullet classifies as hair," Valerie said smugly. "And you really should cut that shit off. You're starting to look like a girl, you know."

This time, Dan's face faulted, and glared at her in irritation. His fingers sharpened with blades of light, like claws. "Why don't you say that again?" he demanded, mocking. "Maybe I'll break a nail. In your throat."

_Finally!_ She breathed. _Normal conversation!_ She pulled out a plasma cannon, which lit up under her touch. "I dare you to try, sweetheart," she said cheekily. "That manicure looks pretty cheap."

He growled at her, the powerful lines of his body tightening up. "Not as cheap as your hair cut," he bit back, a sneer twisting his face.

She growled back. "Bastard."

"Bitch." Then he really looked at her again, and his irritation gave way to some kind of pout. "…I always wanted to touch your curls." He looked legitimately disappointed and despondent—like a child. "And now I can't. Because they're _gone_."

She tilted her head. "Well," she huffed with a mocking air of superiority, "be a good boy, and maybe I'll grow it back out."

Dan looked at her with utter seriousness, his red eyes shining with suspicion. The blades of light retracted back into his hands. "…What exactly constitutes as a good boy?" he asked suddenly.

"Say what?"

"I may be willing to try it. As long as you grow out your hair. And I get to touch it whenever I want."

Valerie blinked for a second, thrown off by Dan's easy proposal. "…You can't be serious."

He raised a brow. "Oh," he said. "I can be very serious."

She re-shouldered the cannon, incredulous. "You can't possibly like my hair that much."

"Only one way to find out."

"You mean, if I just grow my stupid hair back out, you'll stop trying to kill everyone?"

"Psh, don't push it," he said, a sly smirk splitting his face as he soaked in Valerie's surprise. "But I can think of one person I'd never actually kill. Even if she looks ridiculous with short hair."

Valerie fell silent, trying measure him up and untangle the incredible lack of logic that seemed to inspire him. She put a hand on her hips. "…Are you _hitting_ on me right now?"

Dan nodded, his smile melting into something more delighted. "Maybe."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _And so Valerie's hair saved the world. Inspired by my brother-in-law's reaction to my sister cutting her hair. I actually like short hair, but whatever. _

_I realized that Aftermath Part 3 has expanded into almost 25 pages, and that I just can't get it fully written and revised in time for this Friday. I will probably have to split the next update into a couple of side-by-side updates. So here's something I had typed up a while ago. We needed a happy intermission between Karma and Aftermath anyway. :) Happy/silly one-shots will be labeled as "Intermission" in their title from here on out. _

_If you have time, please leave some thoughts/comments on this chapter. And seriously, why do guys like long hair? _


	10. Aftermath Part 3

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Invader Johnny, Aiporn4, Above the Winter Moonlight, Guest, Cookieplzandthnx, Crystalmoon39, Xand'r Coldhearted, Silverstone007, and Zanza Flux for review! Hope you enjoy this next installment of the Aftermath series, which has overtaken my mind. _

_Shot 10 Summary: Aftermath Part 3: Valerie gives birth to Dan's child, and she discovers one serious problem with her plans to use the child as a weapon against its own father. Genre: Angst/Drama. Rating: High T._

* * *

><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 10: Aftermath Part 3**

* * *

><p>Damien Gray placed his hands on Valerie's shoulders with a saddened sigh. "Baby girl, talk to me," he begged. "You've been hiding ever since he came back. Please. Talk to me."<p>

They stood in the commander's quarters of the resistance building, far away from prying eyes as Valerie broke down. Her face twisted in a poorly concealed sob. She leaned her forehead against her father's once-strong shoulder, breath hitching. "What do you want me say? I'm freaking out? I'm being stalked by a monster? I'm about to be a mom?"

The rush of questions fled from her in a storm that left her father struggling for words as he patted her back. "Valerie, this is not just your burden." She trembled against him in barely-withheld sorrow. "Do you understand me? I want to help you. I want to be here for you."

But she was not listening. "What did I do?" she whispered, voice cracking with sobs. "Why did he come back? What did I do? Why would he d-do any of this?"

He leaned his aged cheek against her ringlet hair. "It's not your fault, baby girl. Don't ever think that it is."

She tried to focus on the low hum that was her father's voice, like soft tidal waves. His voice had once rocked her to sleep every night in infancy, but now it failed to provide anything but an empty promise of safety. Her brilliant, teal eyes watered up, despite how much she tried to swallow back the emotion. "I'm a coward. I couldn't fight him off. I…I just—" Something close to a wail strangled in her throat. "I couldn't."

She could not tell her father how much Phantom's presence had frozen her in fear and weakened her ability to think. She could not tell her father how much she wanted to scream at the sight of Phantom. Shame. She mostly felt shame.

As Damien hugged her, he could feel the uneven bump of her stomach. "You're not a coward," he said forcefully. He pulled away and eyed her. "Have you been experiencing any strange sensations since you accessed the baby's powers?"

She hesitated, thinking about telling her father about the consciousness of the child, but then she shook her head. Maybe it was better he didn't know. Maybe he'd think she was just making it up. Or going insane.

Silence stretched out and swung between them like a leeching darkness. Then, in the smallest voice, Valerie whispered against his chest, "Phantom said he's coming back, dad. And I don't know what I can…h-how I can stop it…"

Something broke in her father, and he inhaled shakily. What words did he have to say? His mind still flashed with images of his baby girl's unconscious, bloody body strewn on the ground, her battle suit peeled open and undone, her eyes dazed and sightless.

He had aged a thousand years in one second, thinking his baby girl dead. He was beginning to age another millennia under the very real fear that Phantom would come after Valerie again.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to hold her tighter. He wanted to ward off any semblance of Phantom's corrupting touch. "You're a brave girl," he whispered to her, voice breaking. "You're so brave—in ways I can't even comprehend. If anyone can get through this, Val, it's you."

* * *

><p>But Phantom made good on his threats to send servants to Valerie, going even so far as to demand her presence at his castle in the Ghost Zone. A band of heavily armored and monstrously tall skeletons arrived halfway through her eighth month of pregnancy. They ripped her away from her sobbing father, decimating the few brave souls willing to fight to keep Valerie safe.<p>

The resistance crumbled. Amity Park fell.

"Take her to the King's castle!" one of the ghostly servants cried, swooping through the fiery remains of the resistance's above-ground facilities. With a button, they opened up a rip in space to the Ghost Zone.

They overpowered Valerie and grabbed onto her shoulders, forcing her forward.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, trying to shake them off, twisting her arms. But their skeletal hands were vice-like and steely, and her tears of terror had pain had blurred her vision. They pushed her through the portal to the Ghost Zone. And with every forced step, her chances of escaping were increasingly nonexistent. _Oh my God. Oh my God._

"Shit," she whispered, mind racing, trying to break away from them. She dug her heels in, but a dark platform unfolded beneath them, and the entire entourage began to soar up, flying at a quick speed.

It was happening. Phantom was decimating every last semblance of her life beyond him. Fear warped her mind back to one night over eight months ago, and she panicked, locking up in terror, her mind blitzing with Phantom's invasive touch as he held her down, and—

Without warning, a wracking pain grabbed her entire body. Something loosening within her, and she gasped, collapsing to her knees as her water broke. The two skeletons beside her quickly grabbed her arms to keep her from falling.

"No, no," she said shakily, holding her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on the pain and the fear coming from the child. She tried to speak to it. "It's okay. It's okay."

The small consciousness at the back of her mind pulsed erratically. The child did not know what was happening either. It did not want to hurt her.

But she knew it was going to.

She winced as her body strained with contractions. The stress of the arrival of the servants and being forced away from her crying father had tumbled her body into giving birth—a defense mechanism to ensure the baby would not suffer under Valerie's mental strain. "No, no. Please stop. We're fine. We're okay." Her voice strangled as the contraction intensified. "Please."

The skeletons looked at each other, then began to move quicker. The platform upon which they flew soared high, flinging Valerie's hair back and drying her tears as she very nearly hung from the skeleton's arms. A infinite number of doors and worlds passed them by in a swirl of total silence. If any ghosts existed along the path, none dared to show their faces to the entourage.

She began to breathe hard, because she knew what was coming now. Phantom had admitted to being busy in his months away, which meant that wherever they were heading, he probably had total control—a place where no one would be able to get to her, where no one would contest his demands.

Tears burned her eyes. Only pride kept them from falling.

The only sound as they zipped through the Zone was that of Valerie's muffled gasps from her body realigning itself for birth. Sweat had begun to shine on her forehead. She could barely hold herself up, much less fight off her captors. And if she did not manage to get the contractions under control, then she feared that she would really be having her kid in the middle of some God-forsaken realm.

Love and concern emanated out from the child's consciousness, and Valerie hesitantly latched on. As much as she did not want to admit it, she needed the reassurance that she was not alone. The child gave its love freely. Its little mind wrapped around hers.

The damn thing was trying to protect her from a world to which it was ignorant, and she wryly smiled through her tears, her heart soaring a bit higher in amusement. The irony that she always seemed to find solace in this unwanted child was not lost on her.

She was not alone. Although she could sense no solid personality or memory in the child (or its awareness of her own), the baby seemed to thrive off of collective harmony. Its violent origins had apparently no impact on its existence.

Maybe she hadn't made a mistake in keeping it. Providing she and it could survive the next several hours.

They arrived only too soon at their destination—a heavily guarded fortress upon an island. "…Pariah Dark's castle," she whispered, recognizing the blood red moldings that cast gargoyle shadows over the white bricks. "What the—?"

One of the skeletons responded. "Now the castle of King Danny Phantom. Pariah Dark is no more."

Valerie swallowed hard and said, "You've gotta be kidding me." Fear squished her heartbeat into an unsteady rhythm. This was _Phantom's _castle.

_Just breathe,_ she told herself. _Just breathe._ Her hands began to shake.

_I can do this. I am strong. I will get out of here. _

The child's mind tried to wrap around the outer edges of her fear. _Safe,_ it tried to repeat protectively. _Safe._

"Get her to a room," one of skeletons ordered. Its jaw creaked in time with the gravel of its voice. It was too inhuman to provide Valerie anything but deeper dread for what the future held.

The next thing she knew, they phased through several levels and rooms of the castle. She tensed under their hands, only to cry out in pain as new contractions barreled through her. "Please stop," she raggedly begged the child within her. "Please." She couldn't even think about escaping if she had to worry about giving birth too. Too much. Everything was just too much.

A inherent sense of guilt and sorrow flooded from the child to her, but it could not stop even if it tried.

The guard of skeletons suddenly released her, and she stumbled with a cry to the floor, wincing hard as she instinctively twisted to avoid falling on her stomach. The stone floor jarred her elbows and legs, and she winced in pain. The child within her felt the pain, and its small mind fragmented, collapsing in.

Valerie realized the baby's consciousness had unraveled, and she panicked. "Bastards!" she cried out to the skeletons, voice hard. She struggled to turn around and face them. "What the hell? Are you crazy?"

"Wait here," they told her. Then they materialized into dust, the shadow platform beneath them dissipating as well.

Valerie blinked, angry and afraid. She tried to look around, but only the dull glow of the Ghost Zone itself flooded the room. She could barely make out a large structure in the middle of the room—maybe a bed? And some chairs. She was in a plain room.

Just a plain room.

Her pain subsided to a dull ache for a moment. Valerie breathed in heavily, trying to center herself. For one wild moment, she wondered if perhaps they'd all leave her alone to birth a baby by herself. In the middle of a fucking castle in the dark.

She pressed her hand against her stomach, strangely alarmed at the child's silence. "Come on, you better be okay. I took that fall, not you."

She did not want to admit the level of fear that gripped her at the thought that the child was hurt. It brought up a whole new slew of fears that she had been trying to stifle. She swallowed hard. Her own mother had died in childbirth—they'd had to perform an emergency C-section just to save Valerie.

What guarantee did she have that she would survive giving birth? What if the baby died? Would it all be for nothing?

"We're gonna be okay," she whispered, voice shaking. "We'll be fine, right?"

The consciousness of her child—it was stronger now, more solid upon recalibrating from the fall— reacted to the voice of its mother. A tentative hope fled from it to her. The child could not see her thoughts or understand why she was suddenly afraid, but it wanted to settle her fears. _Love,_ it said. _Safe._

Valerie's lips twitched up, even as her eyes blurred with tears. "Yeah, yeah, you say that now. Wait till you meet me for real." She struggled to her feet, trying to see in the dark. She nearly barreled over again in a contraction. "But can you stop trying to be born this second? I can't even see where we're at."

Guilt swept through her from the child.

Of its own volition, Valerie's hand began to tingle, and red light hummed from her fingers. She blinked in surprise and raised her hand up to inspect it. "Oh."

But unlike when she had accessed an ectoplasmic blast while fighting Dan, the energy rested in her hand the way a warm light bulb would. The child tried to raise her spirits. _See—see?_

She nodded, a bit dazed. The red light was not entirely unpleasant, and it was of a soft brightness that illuminated the whole of the room. "Yes, I can see now. Thanks."

The child's heart soared with the praise.

She narrowed her eyes as she began walking towards the bed at the far end of the room. "Now," she breathed, glancing around, "if you could just fly out of me, then we'd really have it made."

The child did not understand her statement._ Out?_

"Yeah, like phase out," she said, this time the idea sounding more and more appealing. "Can you do that?"

It froze. It did not understand flying or phasing out, nor could it understand from where it was supposed to fly out of. It was exactly where it was supposed to be. Its mind trilled strangely with the question, and the light in her hand died as it tried to concentrate.

She breathed heavily, heart sinking in disappointment. "Don't hurt yourself, kid. It was worth a shot." She rubbed her temples, trying to fight off the searing pressure of a headache and impending contraction. Then she winced as she felt the baby burrow into her, its feet kicking at her ribs in an unsteady flail. "Ooh, don't do that," she begged, inhaling sharply.

It tried to stop, holding very still. A shameful guilt rolled off of it. It did not intend to hurt its mother.

The woman closed her eyes, feeling guilty that she was making an unborn infant feel guilty. She winced as another contraction hit her. "Do you even know what you _are_?"

Before the child could even hope to understand its mother's questions, Valerie huffed tiredly. "Never mind. Just…don't look like him. Please." She didn't know what she would do if it did. It seemed to understand basic needs alright—safety, love—but if it had blue skin and red eyes…

She swallowed hard. She'd just have to deal with it, she supposed.

The child thought the idea of another presence beyond itself and its mother was intriguing, not quite catching Valerie's emotional turmoil over the concept. Its mind flickered brightly, nudging her forward to explain. _Who? Who?_

But then the door to the room burst open, and soft lights flickered to life from the ceiling. Valerie flinched, instinctively trying to form her body into a defensive stance. It was weak and off-kilter, and she grimaced. She did not know how to compensate for contractions and an extra fifteen pounds.

Instead of more guards or Phantom himself, five or six ghosts flew through the doorway in a quick procession. Their appearances were nondescript shadows of skeletons, and they all wore a plain garb, not unlike white robes.

"Queen Valerie," they said, bowing. In their hands were various towels and boxes with supplies—medical technologies that Amity Park had run out of months ago: needles, medications, masks, IV bags.

"What the hell," she breathed in confusion, not even catching the title they had attached to her name. They had since raised from their bows and had begun unloading all of the equipment. "Who are you? What are you—?"

"—They are here to help you deliver your child," said a female voice, this one far more individualized than the attending skeletons. The voice echoed as its owner flew through the door.

Valerie turned her head in surprise at the woman floating before her.

"I am Dora." The ghost bowed before her stiffly, then rose and eyed her. "The Ghost King sent me to serve you as your personal attendant."

Valerie eyed her back. Dora was not ugly or grotesque by any means. Her light green skin, blond hair, and frail, humanoid appearance made her look a bit like a magical being from a fairytale. That she wore some kind of medieval gown finished the look off.

"You're here," Valerie repeated in disbelief, "to _serve_ me?"

Dora gave a nod, then sniffed indignantly at the surroundings. "But only you and the child."

"How did—" Valerie restarted, brain confused, voice hitching. "I mean, you're just…okay with this? Why would you agree to help me?"

Dora carried herself like a princess, chin level with the ground, back straight. "The Ghost King has agreed to spare my realm in return for my services. It is an offer I cannot refuse."

Valerie stared at the ghost. "But I hunt ghosts," she said. "I don't fraternize with them. Why would he think _I_ need you?"

Dora eyed Valerie's heavily pregnant belly and repeated, "The Ghost King has demanded that I serve you in your time of need." With something of a suffering sigh, she moved towards Valerie, holding out helping hands. "Let me help you to lie down on the bed over there."

Valerie tried to measure the loyalty of this ghost, whether she was trustworthy or some sort of spy for Phantom. She allowed Dora to take her arm and guide her to the bed, which did look like a good place to collapse. "Don't you want to serve a _ghost_?" she pressed, eyes narrowed. "Don't you want to get rid of me?"

The ghost paused. For a second, her frail features tightened with something not unlike pain and frustration, and it made her look tired. "My brother," Dora admitted slowly, "one day decided that having a human bride would be the ultimate display of his power. This is…" she smiled weakly "…not so incredibly different."

The human woman stared at the ghost. "You're kidding," she said flatly. "Who the hell would think that's a good idea? Ever?"

If Dora disapproved of Valerie's crude language, she expertly hid it. "Apparently, men who are obsessed with power," she said lightly. "And with exercising it over anything."

The double meaning was not lost upon Valerie. She looked at Dora suddenly and saw some semblance of a friendly face. Maybe Dora knew more about what had really happened than she let on. "Tell me more about your brother," she demanded, wincing as pain began to wrack her body. "Please."

Dora nodded, and she held out her hand. Valerie gripped it hard in fear, surprised by its solidness despite the ghost's seeming physical frailty. "What do you wish to know?"

"What happened between him and the girl?" Valerie asked, feeling sweat begin to bead on her temples. "The human bride? Did she have to end up marrying your brother?"

Dora bit her lip. "No, a chivalrous ghost saved her," she said, almost smiling with the memory. "He saved me too." Then the smile slipped from her face quickly, replaced with hopelessness. "But he is gone now."

Valerie felt a part of her heart sink as Dora helped her to sit on the bed. Of course no chivalrous ghosts would exist for her. She looked at the attending skeletons, swallowing hard as she realized that her future was about to get significantly more complicated than she ever imagined. She leaned back on the pillows and sighed, closing her eyes. Her eyes burned with tears. "I just wanna get this over with," she said shakily.

Dora looked at her in pity. "I know you do. We will ensure that it is a safe delivery."

"And then what?" Valerie demanded with a hopeless, bitter laugh. "Where is Phantom, anyway? How long do I have before he gets here and does who knows what?"

"I…may have told him very explicit details about the birthing process," Dora said. Some dark amusement in her expression told Valerie that the ghost had probably exaggerated. "He seemed very content to remain on the frontlines of a battle. For now."

Despite her pain and fear, Valerie could not help but scoff through her tears at the ridiculousness of that image. She could see his sharp face twist in disgust, his eyes widening as Dora explained how his child would be born. Maybe Phantom was capable of nausea, she didn't know, but the thought gave her some kind of backwards strength. "So he's not going to be here for a while?" she asked, hope raising.

"Most unlikely," Dora assured.

That made the idea of childbirth only slightly better. "Okay," she breathed. "Now if we could just get this thing out of me, then I'd be set."

Then she could escape, maybe before Phantom even returned. Yeah. She liked that idea.

Dora warned her gently, "We've never had natural half-human ghosts before. We cannot risk harming the child through…unnatural means of extraction. The King would be very displeased if the child did not survive."

The human woman groaned. "Why, because then he can't lord it over me?"

"No," Dora breathed. She hesitated, "Because he intends to name you Queen, and your child his heir." The ghost's words were tentative and carefully chosen, ringing with a warning beneath it. "He is very adamant about having an heir."

* * *

><p>Nearly twenty hours later, Valerie gave birth to a boy. She felt raw, mind scattered as Dora and the other ghost servants worked to clean her and the baby up. They transferred her to a recovery room just down the hall, where they told her she would be staying until the Ghost King lifted restrictions on her freedom. She didn't care very much at that point, because she felt as if she'd been torn in two. The weird pull of stitches told her that just about happened. She was too weak to hold her baby or even look at it, and so Dora cared for it, putting it to sleep in a bassinet beside the bed.<p>

It had been born crying the entire time, its mind fluttering in panic at the loss of its mother's mind and body. Valerie had cried with it, thinking that she was truly dying, nearly unconscious from blood loss. She listened to its shrill screams as she drifted off after it all, unable to do much else but numbingly accept that they had both survived.

Her chance to recover did not last long.

Phantom had been waiting to see them, having returned several hours ago from a campaign across the edge of the Zone. The servants flinched under his sharp tongue and glaring eyes as he paced outside the door of the recovery room. The moment the baby's cries finally died down, he decided Valerie had plenty of time to rest.

"I'm very impatient," Phantom called out almost pleasantly, a hard note stinging beneath it. Valerie flinched awake at the sound, her eyes snapping open. His voice was muffled from beyond the door, but it hummed like a bee hive and thrummed through the floor. "I need my heir to present at tonight's banquet to the Council. Can't you hurry it up a bit? Valerie, dear—talk to me."

Dora gazed at Valerie, eyes wide. "Uh…"

Valerie inhaled a shaky breath. Pain wracked her as she tried to sit up on her own. "You're such a sick—" she breathed, voice strangling, "sick bastard!" She collapsed on the bed, energy draining. Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, despite how much she wished to take them back. "You do this to me…and you ask for more?"

"Satisfaction's not in my nature." Phantom's fingers tapped against the wood with a threatening beat. "Hurry up."

Dora gave Valerie an apologetic look as she rushed to rearrange the bed sheets and pillows. "Sorry," she breathed, her voice hardly above a whisper. "I'm so sorry. We have to let him in before he gets…riled. It's easier this way."

The exhausted human woman looked up at Dora hopelessly, scoffing to hide her fear. Of course no one would stop Phantom. Of course she was always alone. Of course.

Dora patted her arm, her touch soft and hesitant. Then she turned around. "You may enter, King," she called. She forced a painfully tight smile on her face, her voice straining with joy.

Phantom gave a sigh of frustrated relief. "Finally!" Then he materialized into the room, eying the bed-ridden Valerie up and down. She looked pale and exhausted, her stomach still distended. "Not bad," he praised her, moving closer. "For just giving birth, you're still gorgeous."

Something predatory in his gaze made Valerie swallow hard. Her mind flashed back, and she gripped the clean sheets with tight hands. "You stay away from me," she said hoarsely.

Her words inspired him to do the opposite. He floated to her bedside, his long fingers trailing down Valerie's temple. She grimaced and turned her head away, which only split his face a bit wider with a smile. "I just can't stay away," he said slowly. He looked almost pouty. "It's been so long since I've seen you."

"You could have waited another century or two," she said, voice flat. Her words quivered despite her best efforts.

Phantom quickly caught onto her elevated fear, and he breathed it in with great satisfaction. "A century?" he repeated. "Then you'd be dead."

"Kind of the idea."

He waved off the idea. "I have no use for a dead Valerie." Her fear was invigorating as he leaned forward. "I very much prefer you alive." But then he blinked and turned around. "Speaking of life, where is my child? My heir?"

When Dora did not immediately respond from her attending spot by the bassinet, Phantom grew irritated. "Dora. My child."

Dora nearly flinched. Then she leaned over the bassinet, reaching out to raise the sleeping baby into her arms. "He is here!" she called out shakily, smiling. "A healthy baby boy! A strong heir for our King!"

"…A son?" Phantom hummed, sliding sly eyes to Valerie, who simply glared back. "Ooh, I like that."

Dora nervously floated to the side of the bed, carrying a bundle in a black blanket. She did not want to get in the middle of the dark tension between the new mother and father, nor did she wish to invoke Phantom's ire for fear that Valerie would suffer under it. "Your child," she presented, gently lowering the baby into Valerie's arms, and Valerie instinctively grabbed it, cradling it away from Phantom.

Phantom did not notice the small insult, his handsome face trained only on the black blanket that covered most of his child from sight. He complained. "I want to see my son. Move that thing out of the way."

Valerie, who had not yet gazed upon her own child, was almost hesitant to do so. She'd been nearly unconscious by the time the baby was born, and then Dora had taken it away from her, perhaps in understanding that the child was the product of…less than ideal circumstances.

She raised shaking fingers to pull the edge of the blanket away from the child's face, opening it to the harsh lights of the room.

And for a second, they looked almost like a family, Valerie staring down at her child in wonder, Phantom leaning over them.

The baby had tanned skin—a swirling mix of Valerie's own dark skin and the latent genetics in Dan's skin that were once white. Its nose and temples sloped in a perfectly human configuration, and she stared, almost in apprehension, as the baby opened its eyes.

Brilliant, oceanic blue.

"Oh." Valerie stared in surprise, half-expecting the color red, maybe even her own teal. But the bright blue nearly glowed. The baby stared back at her, its eyes locking with some kind of knowledge. Her heart pounded. They reminded her of someone long lost, his name dancing at the tip of her tongue.

Dan's gaze, on the other hand, was troubled. He backed away, caught between awe and horror. "Those eyes," he said. "Those are—were—" His voice strangled as he crossed his arms, turning his face away.

Valerie looked up from her baby. "You got a problem with blue eyes?" she demanded. "You saying my son is defective?" She held it tighter, as if to protect it from his wrath.

Phantom paused, face twitching strangely. "No," he said, his usually smooth voice uneven. "No, I'm not."

The baby's blue eyes followed Dan's every movement, even as its small, chubby hands fisted into the black blanket in which it was wrapped.

For a second, Dan looked almost reverent as he stared at his son. Then he heard the sound of shuffling, creaking bones, and his face twitched. He looked up at the various skeleton servants still milling about, cleaning up. "Leave us!" he called out to them, irritated, waving them away. "And don't come back until I call for you." He eyed Dora. "You too."

The servants flinched, quickly nodding. They left the room half-cleaned, materializing away at the command of their King.

Dan tracked their every movement until they were gone. The moment the room was empty and door shut, he held out his hand to Valerie. "I want to hold it," he said suddenly, now satisfied that no one but Valerie would witness him holding his son for the first time.

Valerie held the baby closer and glared at him. "No." Her dark hands ran down the soft, tanned skin of the baby. Its head already contained the black, wiry strands that would fan out into a full mop of hair. This child was the only hope for the resistance. She would not let him corrupt it.

It almost bothered her that she could not hear its half-thoughts anymore.

He lightly shoved her. "Come on, sweetheart," he whispered, voice hard. "I want to hold my son. Don't make me fight you for him."

She had a horrible image of Dan breaking the small child in an attempt to grab it from her. The thought was enough to bend her will. She glared him, then relented. "Be careful," she warned him, a hard edge in her voice.

With a bit of an irritated sniff, his large hands wrapped around the small body and pulled the child away from her.

She imagined that Phantom would try to hold the baby like a weapon or a sack of potatoes, and that the baby would wail loudly. But he held the baby as if it were made of glass, cradling it in his strong arms and against his chest. Its face twisted a bit at the coolness of Dan's skin, then relaxed with a soft sigh. It leaned its heavy cheek into the crook of Dan's neck and breathed in deep its father's scent.

"Well," Dan smiled, lips spreading too wide for his face, "would you look at that." He ran his long fingers down the baby's back in a caress. "I think we'll get along just fine."

Valerie stared at the baby in fear. _Traitor_, she thought at it. Some part of her paled at the thought that the child, half of her own self, was in Dan's hands. Hands that had destroyed worlds and ravaged her body. "Don't hurt him," she demanded, only for the ghost to ignore her.

Instead, Dan's face lost its maniacal shadow for but a second as he leaned his cheek against the baby's head and closed his eyes. "Mine," he breathed airily, his hands wrapping a bit tighter around the baby. "All mine."

He nearly looked the picture of the doting father, cradling his baby son.

The woman stared in shock, her jaw dropping open a fraction. Dan was not supposed to like his son. No—he was supposed to cast it aside like a toy. If he genuinely cared for it, that would make it much harder for her to turn the child against him.

Valerie realized in that moment that Dan was engaging in war for the heart and mind of her son. She swallowed hard. "You've held him; now give him back." She did not want Dan to indoctrinate her son with illusions of grandeur and insanity. She did not want Dan to keep her son away from her.

"No," Dan hummed merrily. "I like this little guy." He pulled the infant away from him to eye him, then he brushed noses with it. The sleepy baby giggled and pressed his hand against his father's face. "He's cute when he's not shooting at me through you."

"Give him back," she demanded suddenly. Her eyes burned with the fear that she would never hold her son again. "I want him back."

"You'll have to fight me for him," Dan said playfully.

But Valerie was in no mood for games and no condition for fights. "I'm serious, I want him back."

He began to ignore her instead, turning away. "Oh, you and I are going to have _fun_," he told his son, floating up to the bay windows where the glow of the Ghost Zone shined through. "I'll teach you everything I know. I'll show you how to get anything you want. Not that you won't get it all anyway."

She felt tears burn her vision into a swimming mess. She fought to sit up. "Come on. Give me my son."

Phantom turned around. "What is this?" he asked playfully, chin tilting towards her tears. "Does mommy feel left out?" Valerie gave him a strange look as he floated down and gently lowered his son into the bassinet beside the bed.

"I don't feel left out," she said.

"I can fix that," he whispered, suddenly nose to nose with her in a blur of movement. He tilted his head. "If you're feeling lonely."

"I'm not," she said, eyeing him.

Dan's vice-like grip encircled her arm, and he shoved her onto her back. She gasped in surprise, then in pain as the action tore pangs down her weak body. "I bet you are lonely," he said, "I really haven't paid much attention to you with the baby around."

"Don't," she tried to say. "Don't!"

"Aww, but I missed this." His hand moved up her long legs. Instinctively, she moved to kick him, then gasped at the sudden pain. His hand locked hard behind her knee. "If you're so energetic," he praised, tilting his head, "we can do this all over again. I've got steam I'd like to blow off too."

Valerie stared in horror and disgust. "No," she cried out, her voice hoarse and tearing from her throat. "Get away from me!"

"You have _no_ idea how much I've been wanting to do this again." His hand pushed her loose shirt up.

She cried out in fear. The sound reverberated off the walls, echoing down the castle corridors. Several serving ghosts shivered. It awoke the slumbering baby across the room, who immediately began to hiccup, then cry.

Dan's nose scrunched in irritation at the noise as he paused over Valerie, who weakly struggled against him. "Oh, please."

The baby's wails in the background rose.

Dan growled, not knowing how to respond. "Shut up," he commanded, turning irritated eyes at his son. "_Mommy_ and _Daddy_ are just having a discussion."

The baby cried harder, the harsh tone of Dan's voice tearing through its mind.

Dan was not used to such lack of obedience. "I said, shut up!"

Out of some impulse, the baby's arms reached up, and bright, red light seared from its fingers. The unguided and unconscious power shot into the ceiling, cracking the golden inlays and stone. Debris began to fall, right back on top of the baby.

Valerie forgot herself entirely and cried out, her arms reaching to him. "No!"

Dan's eyes widened; his entire body blurred. He swooped to the bassinet and grabbed his son just as the debris crashed down, smashing the bassinet nearly in half. For a second, nothing happened but for the rolling crumble of stone along the floor at Dan's feet.

The Ghost King looked, for perhaps the first time in his afterlife, truly frightened. He held the sobbing infant close to his chest, his strong arms tightening around it the way one would cradle precious treasure. The irritation he'd held for its cries was gone now in the face of its near death.

Then every line in Dan's body relaxed. He pulled the baby away in an awful mix of anger, amusement, and fear. "Don't do that," he said, flicking the child on the nose. "You'll kill yourself." He readjusted the crying child to lean on his chest, eyes dark as he stroked its soft back. "You silly, rebellious little…"

Valerie looked up at her baby, eyes wide. Her hands shook as she gripped the sheets around her. "Holy—" she breathed. Her heart was pounding for too many reasons. Tears ran down her face. "Is he okay?"

Dan's voice was rough and distracted. "He's fine." He gently brushed his thumb against the baby's head, shaking loose the dust that had fallen on him. "Just…unhappy."

"I wonder why," Valerie muttered, voice hard and shaking.

The baby slowly calmed under the touch of its father, its watering, blue eyes staring back at its mother from the safety of Dan's arms. It did not look away from Valerie, as if searching for something. It hiccupped a couple of times, a small whine raising from its throat.

Dan noticed the baby's strange attention. He curled his lip at Valerie then turned away.

"Mommy's not very happy right now either," Dan said to his son. "Let's go away until she grows up and understands that she upset you." He lightly readjusted his hold on the baby as he began to walk away. The baby's blue eyes tracked Valerie's disappearing form as his father carried him out the door.

That left Valerie alone in the dark and silent room, tears of shock running down her face, mind in shattered fragments. For a second, she did not move, halfway frozen in place. But then she slowly curled up in the bed on her side, hands crushing the black sheets. She pressed her hands against her ruined, weak stomach and cried out in a muffle sob.

It was wrong. Everything was wrong. Dan would steal her baby away and make him hate her. Dan would tear her apart for fun.

She tried to think of escapes, of strategies to fight back. She had none.

"Valerie?" whispered a soft, small voice. A familiar ghost materialized into the room. It was Dora, the servant that had held her hand the entire time through the birth.

Valerie almost didn't respond. "Go away," she whispered, voice shaking. She tried to hide herself within the bed sheets. "Please, just…"

Dora hesitated. "I—we heard noises. Are you…alright?"

Valerie wanted to say no. She almost did. "Go find my son," she said, voice worn. "Get him away from Phantom."

Dora caught the underlying plea. _And away from me. _

The ghost swallowed hard and nodded. "I can try."

* * *

><p>Phantom paraded his son about the castle for a bit, fawning over him in a way that made all the servants fear even looking at the baby. They bowed low, heads nearly touching the floor. The baby happily traveled in his father's arms, soaking in the vibrations of Dan's deep voice and his obvious adoration. Its small mind had already forgotten its mother's panic and its own near-death experience, its tear tracks dried.<p>

"This is only the beginning," Dan told his son as they gazed out at the vast Ghost Zone. "We will conquer an infinite realm together. Dimensions. Timelines. And no one will speak against you. They'll shake as they bow at your feet—the son of the Ghost King and the Ghost Slayer."

The baby gurgled a toothless smile, excited by his father's rising fervor.

Dan pulled his son away to look at its happy eyes and the slightest of glows from his power core, which was stronger now than it had been even in the womb. Because its power was tied to its development, it would most likely continue to grow to rival that of his own. The thought delighted him.

"A natural halfa," he breathed, almost in awe of the gift Valerie had inadvertently given him. "The first. The only."

His face darkened with a twisted smile, a new idea teasing his mind. He brushed his nose against his son's, and the baby giggled. "For now."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: _Vlad was always obsessed with having a son to rule with and teach. Danny always deeply cared for his family and tried to maintain a normal family dynamic. I think, combining these things together, that Dan would not endanger or despise his child, but would rather see it as the beginning of his dream realized._

_The "birth/early years" segments of Aftermath expanded way beyond my control. Good lord. _

_On that note, what should their baby be named? I'm horrible with names. Please help me out! _


	11. Aftermath Part 4

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_You guys are freakin' awesome. Thanks to Zanza Flux, Aiporn4, Crystalmoon39, dragonprincess, Silverstone007, starwater09, MsFrizzle, The-Lost-Wanderer-07, Brandie, Xand'r Coldhearted, JoojooBrother, Invader Johnny, Cookieplzandthnx, Above the Winter Moonlight, and lightshadow101 for reviewing. _

_And thanks for all the suggestions for the baby's name! The baby doesn't have such a large part in this installment, but the naming will be addressed in the next Aftermath update. __ And __**dragonprincess**__, I'm working on Karma Part 3 right now—still not ready yet, but hang in there! _

_As I suggested before, the birth/early years of Aftermath expanded way beyond my control. Like, this is a runaway train. I'm terrified this might actually turn into some full-length story within my one-shot collection, and I don't know how to fix that, except to keep moving forward? _

_Aftermath Part 4 Shot Summary: Dan discovers Valerie's breaking point, and Valerie tries to hold onto the remains of her sanity as the newly proclaimed Queen of the Ghost Zone and wife of the dreaded Ghost King Phantom. Genre: Drama/Horror. Rating: High T._

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><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 11: Aftermath Part 4**

* * *

><p>Dan appeared in the nursery, just down the hall from Valerie's recovery room. "I want to have some alone time with the queen," he announced to the servants, tilting his head. "Ensure that my son is fed and put to sleep." They bowed and gently took the baby from him to place it in a large, black cradle. "I want nothing to interrupt us."<p>

Among the servants in waiting was Dora, who had been pacing the room for some time. She swallowed hard, then moved forward. "King, she needs rest. Valerie is still recovering from—"

"—It's queen," he said, turning sharp eyes to Dora. "_Queen_ Valerie. You will address her with this title from now on."

"Queen Valerie," Dora pressed, "had a difficult birth. She needs to heal, and time to do so."

He raised a brow. "No, my queen is feeling all sad and alone." He smiled something wicked. "I need to show her how much I still care, even though she's no longer carrying my child."

"Uh, that's not a good idea!" Dora tried to intervene, eyes widening in panic. "If you try to—"

"—She'll be fine," he waved off her concern.

"No, but if you—"

Some kind of anger overwhelmed him. He grabbed her throat and stuck his face in hers. "_Don't_ question me," he hissed sharply. Dora winced in pain. He snarled, then threw her to the ground hard, the stone cracking around her body. She gasped, her skirts wrapping around her in tangles. A draconic red bled into her eyes instinctively, but she quickly swallowed it back.

The seconds that passed between King and servant were tense as Phantom eyed her. Out of fear, Dora tilted her head down to avoid his gaze, wincing.

"I may have placed you as her personal servant," Dan said, voice dark with irritation, "but you serve me _first_. I can always destroy your kingdom for your insubordination. Anytime."

Dora struggled to her feet. "Of course, my King," she bowed low and stiff. Her pale, green hand clenched. "Of course."

"Good." Dan straightened with a sniff and ran a hand through his hair. Then he continued onwards, allowing his footsteps to echo down the corridor as a ringing announcement of his presence. "Now, to visit my queen." Then he muttered under his breath, "Before she turns more of my servants against me."

* * *

><p>Dan barged through the door to Valerie's recovery room. He looked her over, almost half in expectation that she had invented some sort of weapon—that perhaps she had a knife or some other nonsense tucked beneath her pillow that he would have to wrestle away.<p>

But instead, she was simply laying upon the bed in a tangle of sheets. Perfect.

"Now," he breathed. "Where were we?" He tapped his chin as Valerie tried to hide herself deeper in the sheets. "Oh, yes. I was about to reiterate how important you still are to me. I know that new mothers can get that way sometimes." He smirked. "I've been reading up on this, you know."

"Go away," she called out. Her voice was weak and strangled. She sat up, holding her stomach in pain. "I don't want to see you."

"I think you do," he said suddenly. "You've been months without any _fun_. And so have I."

She tried to wipe sweat from her brow. Her fingers shook. "You can't be serious," she said in horror and disbelief. "Don't touch me. Stay away."

He flew over to her. Then he pressed on her still-distended stomach, and she sharply inhaled at the pain. "Dora thinks you need to heal first," he said. "But I think you can handle it."

Valerie began to cry. "You wouldn't," she tried to leverage. "I just—I gave _birth_. Don't touch me!"

She hadn't considered that Dan would be insane enough to hurt her again, at least not so soon. She imagined that she would always be able to fight him off in the future. But she was too weak now, too pained, too exhausted. She would not be able to stop him.

"You'll be fine," he told her, nodding. "It's more important that we reestablish our connection." He leaned down, nearly nose to nose. "Don't you want to feel wanted?"

But when she did not respond out of pure shock, her mouth gaping, concern flickered across his face. "Valerie, I asked you a question. It's polite to respond." He grabbed onto the hem of her shirt, just to get her to react.

Suddenly, every flashback, every fear, every ounce of her remaining sanity snapped back to her.

She grabbed onto his arms with weak hands, tears slipping from her teal eyes. "No," she begged. She could feel the stitches halfway holding her together. He'd injured her beyond repair. "Don't you dare. Don't."

"But you've been such a good girl." He pushed her mental sanity a little farther with a mocking smile, enjoying the way fear tightened her face. "You need a reward."

Her eyes blurred with tears, her lips quivering. "No," she cried, voice cracking. "I can't—I can't…" Her breath hitched hard. His arms were like steel beneath her fingers, and she could not move him off. Tears slipped down her face, unbidden.

Her pride bent under her fear, twisting hard like melting metal in a forge. This was no longer about pride; this was survival. She couldn't handle his assaults without losing whatever was left of her mind and body. "Please don't." The words tumbled off her tongue in a flurry. Maybe he'd laugh and lord it over her, but she'd beg if it meant stopping him. "Please."

His manic smile lessened with her use of the word _please_, faltering. His hand slipped from the hem of her shirt. For a second, he did nothing but stare at her in confusion. Then he grabbed her chin. "What is wrong with you?" Something strange crossed Dan's face. "Valerie Gray does not beg or admit weakness." His voice was hard as flint, but his touch was gentle as he brushed the tears away from her cheek. "Even when she is afraid, she is rebellious and strong, always."

Her mind fragmented to pieces. Her lips pulled back in a sob with his touch, reverting back to nine months ago when he'd first pushed her down. "I can't," she said, nearly hyperventilating. Her vision blurred with tears. His image swam before her. His weight caged her in. "I'm not."

Dan stared at her hard. "Are you breaking?" he asked point-blank, almost worried. "Is that what this is?"

She tried to push against his chest, but several months carrying a child to term had stolen her strength. Defeat had stolen her pride. "Please stop," she whispered, voice straining. "I can't do this. I can't do this. Not again."

Valerie Gray had barely survived the first assault; she wasn't sure she even wanted to survive a second one—hang the consequences. Forget the resistance. She was already a martyr. If he killed her for failing to be strong, maybe it was for the best.

For a brief minute, Phantom hesitated, listening to the strain of insanity in her voice. He pulled away from her, sitting up. "You_ are_ breaking," he murmured in realization. His head tilted, almost as if he were considering his own actions for the first time ever. "Huh."

She tried to turn away from him, never-minding the pain as her stitches stretched. She curled into a ball beneath the covers in an attempt to protect herself. Her teal eyes were wide and unfocused, staring at the wall across the room in a daze.

Phantom's features twisted. He groaned, running a hand through his fire hair, then down his face. "Great." He finally realized that he had pushed too far, and she had shattered under the pressure. This was not the Valerie that he so enjoyed pushing. "Now I have to fix you."

He moved off of her, then he laid down beside her on the bed. She shuddered as he wrapped himself around her, his steel arm snaking under her waist to hold her in place. He was cold, as ghosts so often were. Her skin goose bumped as his fingers lightly caressed her still-distended stomach, almost in a loving way.

"See?" he breathed, frustrated. "This isn't so bad. This is all I want. Is this so hard?"

Her shoulders shook as she tried to fight off her hitching sobs. In reply, he ran a hand lazily down her side, only to rest it on her wide hips. "Valerie," he said. His voice was halted. "Stop crying."

His command only yanked tears from her eyes harder. They rolled across her nose and down her face to soak the pillow beneath her. She struggled to breathe, her breath shuddering from her mouth a little harder.

She wanted to die. She wanted to die. If this was all she could and would be—

His fingers dug into her hip, and he leaned in closer over her shoulder. His lips nearly touched her ear. "I could make you feel good," he said, voice stretching with strange emotions. "If you'd just let me. I could…make it better for you. Is that what you need? To feel good?" His hand that had locked under her waist began to snake up over her distended belly, right beneath the swell of her breasts.

She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, struggling not to scream and degrade herself even more before him. She tried to pry his hands from her body, but her smaller fingers dug into his knuckles with little success. She was shaking in total fear, "Don't," she begged, wincing at his touch. "Please."

The raw vulnerability and defeat in her voice twitched Dan's face with great displeasure. "How do I fix you, then?" he complained. "I don't want a broken Valerie. I want normal Valerie."

She did not respond, not even sure how to.

Had the last nine months not happened, perhaps Valerie would sneer at him and try to punch him in the face for touching her. He expected that—a battle of wills, a fiery chess game. Their usual dance of sexual tension and intensive physical combat.

But this? She wasn't even strong enough to either push him away or fight fire with fire. She was simply…reactive. Weak.

He groaned in frustration, even as he broke his hands away from hers, sliding his fingers back down her stomach. "Valerie, I'm trying to fix you. I'd be very sad and bored if you broke, and I don't want that. I…I want _you_. It's the tension. It's always the tension. Do you understand?"

His voice was hesitant, his words drawing slowly from his tongue as if he struggled to construct them.

Valerie's fragmented mind tried to unravel his logic. She did not entirely understand what Dan meant—a part of fear feared knowing—but she gathered enough that he would not try to hurt her again.

She closed her eyes in relief, her entire body sinking deeper into the bed. All of her energy was gone. Without enthusiasm, she whispered to the air, "…I hate you." Her voice was exhausted and hoarse, and it raised in fear when she felt him tighten his body around her. "I hate you so much."

He held her gently, sighing as he buried his face in her hair. Some kind of relief overcame him at her response. His hand stroked her hip with an obsessive rhythm. "I know," he said slowly, lips stretching with a smile.

For some time, they remained next to each other. Phantom breathed in air that he did not need so that he could revel in her scent. Valerie, in her mental and physical exhaustion, simply allowed him to lay beside her. Her shuddering, uneven breaths slowed, and she tried not to think about Phantom's touch or the meaning of his words.

If she just closed her eyes, maybe she could pretend she was with someone else—that it was not Phantom's hands on her body, or his cool breath against her neck. As she stared at the wall on the other side of the bed, she tried to pretend that it was not a wall in the castle of the Ghost King. That she didn't just give birth to her worst enemy's son.

The tear tracks on her face began to lessen.

His voice tickled her ear with a soft breath. "Valerie, I want you to want me," he demanded. Some level of frustration tinged his voice into something dark and sad. "I don't want you to beg me to stop. This is…that's not—" He exhaled sharply, his hand slipping from her hip.

He paused, unable to collect his thoughts in the turmoil of emotion he felt towards one Valerie Gray.

She blinked in surprise. Then with a wince, she pulled away and forced herself to sit up on her elbows. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair a tangled mess of tight rings. Her tear tracks shined in the soft light of the room, and Dan thought she had never looked more beautiful.

"I don't get you," she whispered. "You do…th-this to me, and…" her voice hitched. "Now you're _sorry_? Is that what I'm hearing?"

His face twisted into a grimace at the word _sorry_. "I don't want to break you, that's all. You're no fun when you cry and stop thinking."

She swallowed hard. "Why do you even care? You'll do what you want anyway. I'm just a…" She didn't want to think about it.

What was she, really? Some kind of play toy?

He scoffed. "Oh, Valerie. You're the only one who makes me think, who challenges me. Maybe I enjoy getting a rise out of you, but you are invaluable." His gaze, dark and piercing, softened a fraction. "You are the mother of my son. My Queen. There's no one I want to play house with so much as you. But preferably with the defiant Valerie." He waved at her. "Not this weak and broken Valerie. If you continue to act like this, people will wonder about the heritage of my son, and they'll think him weak because of you." He tapped her nose, almost playfully, and he smiled when her nose scrunched in response. "And we just can't have that."

She inhaled a shaky breath. The fragments of her mind re-sewed themselves slowly. She had to keep her head. She had to think of something so that he could not win—leverage for power so that he could never hold so much power over her again. "Then I want my son," she said. Her voice wavered with false bravado. "Whenever I want him, always. You won't try to keep us apart."

He blinked, his mind racing. "…So you're saying you will not break if I allowed that?" he said slowly.

She nodded hard.

"I was not intending to keep you away from him forever," he said. "But very well. I'll grant you full access, as long as you don't turn him into some sniveling weakling." That damnable smirk glinted light off of his fangs. "Not that Valerie the Ghost Slayer would stand for weak children."

She didn't care what games he was playing with such underhanded teasing; she cared only for his agreement. "And second," she said. She eyed him straight, trying not to waver or shake. "Don't ever touch me again."

The smirk faulted. His nose scrunched. Confusion and irritation marred his slender face into some kind of twisted frown. "Now that is…You can't be serious." He moved before her, tilting his head. "I…you.." He huffed. "I need you."

"No you don't," she said, straightening her spine. Although she still worried about his response, she found strength in the way that his irritation almost looked like fear. "You want me. There's a difference. You can get your kicks somewhere else."

He seemed almost shocked. "With what? All of the other women are pathetic power-suckers. They're blindly obedient. You're the only one that's actually worth my time, that I want." His red eyes darkened. "And I always get what I want."

Her jaw set. If she had any worth at all to him, she'd have to use it now. "You say you need me to challenge you," she repeated slowly. "Right?"

He nodded.

"Then don't touch me," she said. She paused. "That brings back—" Her voice cut off. She tried to restart, words failing her. She wanted to say it brought back painful memories, emotions, fears, but the words stuck in her throat. Frozen. It all just made her feel frozen. She only managed to repeat, "I don't want you to touch me."

He tilted his head. "But what of you?" he demanded in a huff. "No one will want you after this, and no one would dare to touch you after_ I_ have." He eyed her, almost with love. "You're tainted, Valerie. Corrupted. I'm your only option."

"…I've had enough to last me a lifetime," she said dryly, eyeing him. "Not that you'd understand the concept of 'enough.'"

His eyes narrowed, the love slipping from his face. He sniffed, then pulled away from her. "Ten years of tension is enough," he said, fists clenching. "One night of fun isn't enough."

"It wasn't _fun_ for me," she spat the word the way one hiss at spiders.

"You were just trying to deny what we both wanted," he snarled back.

She responded, her voice hard and pained, "I didn't _want _anything to happen. At all."

His face twitched, a rage overcoming him at her complete denial of him. "Oh, no?" he said, voice twisting hard. "Because I can remember quite a few times when you looked. When you teased me back. Don't lie to me." His eyes bled a psychotic orange as his lips curled into a snarl, and Valerie began to scoot away on the bed, swallowing hard.

Her pride did not want anyone, _ever_, to know that she'd thought a ghost attractive at one point—especially Phantom, who had undergone a disturbing transformation since. But Valerie also knew that he knew. It wouldn't do her any good to deny it at this point.

"That was before you were crazy," she admitted hoarsely. "Before—" her mind stuck for a second on flashes of fallen support beams and the gravel that he had thrown her against "—you were a monster."

For a time, he said nothing, eyes narrowed, the powerful lines of his shoulders gridlocked with frustration and anger. He looked as if he would decimate the entire castle in one fell swoop. "Monster?" he breathed, voice raging with something not unlike a bitter laugh. His face twitched with a strange smile. "You think me a monster for giving this world what it deserves? For giving us what we both needed?"

Something snapped within her. "I didn't need you!" she cried out, voice ragged. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't want you!" She nearly pleaded with him for understanding. Her voice broke. "I haven't gone one_ night_ without regretting the decision to make patrols by myself. And you can't—you don't even understand what you did to me." Tears of righteous fury came back and blurred her vision. "I hate you. I _hate _you. I want to kill you."

His eyes blinked back to red, and anger flared his flared nostrils in a sharp exhale. He looked almost at war with himself as he centered his thoughts, trying to process Valerie's accusations. His fists clenched and unclenched. "There's a fine line between love and hate, you know."

Valerie didn't lower her guard, wearily waiting for him to smack her around, to force himself upon her anyway.

But he did neither of those things, instead simply staring at her in dark awe. The concept that Valerie no longer desired in him any way roughed up his emotions. Something about that did not settle well.

His jaw set after a time of weighing the options. "Fine," he said, narrowing his eyes. His voice was tight in displeasure. "If you're too _weak_ to handle it, I won't touch you. I prefer a defiant Valerie over a helpless one. But I'll agree to this only on one condition of my own."

She crossed her arms. She did not yet want to get her hopes up. "And what is that?"

His eyes bore into hers. "I will kiss you," he said. "Once. Every night."

She remained tense, eyeing him. "…That's touching me," she deadpanned.

"Only your mouth," he argued. "That's not much."

She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. He watched her do so, fixating on her mouth. She grew self-conscious and then looked away. Kissing was intimate. Something lovers did, not psychotic murderers. He had never kissed her before. "Why now?"

"Because I want to," he said, tilting his head. Something sneaky entered his expression, and it unnerved her because it was a combination of lust and calculation. He was planning something through this, she knew it. "It's just a kiss. Nothing more. Let me have that, and I won't do anything else again. Deal?"

Valerie paused, feeling something akin to cold ice storm down her spine. It was probably the best deal she was going to get. It still felt as if she would sign her soul over to a devil—a heavy and dark feeling that carried with it great hopelessness.

But just a kiss. She could handle that.

Hesitantly, she nodded.

In a flash, he was floating right in front of her, nearly nose to nose. She jerked in surprise. He said, "I want to use my first kiss now."

And before she could protest, he leaned in.

His lips brushed against hers with a tenderness he had never exhibited before. It was electric. He pressed against her a little harder, stretching her mouth open with his to deepen the kiss.

She nearly gasped at the sudden chill of his touch and the tingles that stormed from her lips down her spine to settle hard in her stomach. Some sort of emotion passed between them, and it was not one of fear or of darkness. She didn't want to think what it was.

He stayed true to his word, only his lips touching hers.

When he suddenly pulled away, Valerie's eyes remained closed, her mouth parted just slightly in shock, her breath shallow. Strange tingles ran down her body, feeling an unpleasant attraction towards him for the first time. She opened her eyes to see Dan staring at her expectantly.

His red irises were dark with an honest, sensual desire. "There," he said, voice a bit more hoarse. "That doesn't break you, does it?"

She swallowed back the incredibly uncomfortable realization of how soft his lips were. She was only a second off beat. "Just disgusted," she mocked, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

He looked at her with a desire so human that her heart paused. "Tell me you felt something," he said, a groan of want rumbling his voice deeper. "I know the tension isn't just me. For ten years. All the looks, the questions. It couldn't have been just me."

She caught herself paying attention to the strain in his face, the way his shoulders curved toward her in barely-restrained desire. Then she lied, "I haven't felt anything for ten years."

Phantom's lips curled up despite his eyes flashing in unending displeasure. "You're wicked to tease me like this," he said, almost in appreciation. "So wicked." He raised his hand, then he ran his long fingers down the space just above her cheekbone. She could feel the pressure between them. "You," he breathed with a little, sad smile, "are as evil as me sometimes, even as weak as you are now. You will teach our son many great and terrible things."

Then he disappeared, materializing into the air like nothing so much as a wisp of fog.

The silence was deafening.

For a second, Valerie just stared at the empty space before her, shocked that it was in fact empty and not filled with one Dan Phantom. She half-expected him to reappear with his demonic smile and say, _Just kidding_. But he never did.

She leaned back on her pillows, teal eyes wide as she stared up at the ceiling of the castle. "What the hell just—" she inhaled shakily, rubbing her tears away. She hugged herself to prove that she was still whole and sound. "Holy shit."

Her lips burned with the taste of him, which was something like snow and brimstone. The rest of her felt strangely numb.

Somehow, she'd flipped the chessboard in her favor. She could raise her child without fear of it being taken away. He would never touch her again, aside from a kiss at night. And she could handle that. She'd survived worse. Maybe if he kept kissing her like he just did, it wouldn't be so bad, especially if she could just pretend it was someone else—

Phantom's voice kept ringing in her mind like a recurring tide, washing back over the scars he had carved into her sanity. _You're wicked to tease me like this. _

For the first time, she felt the real desire that Dan had for her. It was beyond simple, mindless lust. It was instead something far more dangerous—something she knew she could potentially use against him.

Something she had already used against him, without even realizing it.

_ You are as evil as me sometimes. _

A giggle, a hysterical laugh, slipped from her lips as she ran her hands through her ringlet hair and tried to stop crying. Perhaps she was going crazy, her fear blooming into steel resolve and hope. He needed her defiant. He wanted her defiant. Maybe she was still beholden to his whims, but she would not overlook her luck that Dan appreciated her rebellious spirit—her mind?— even more than he did her body.

And she was not going to allow herself to waste the opportunity to be _defiant_.

Feeling as though she could suddenly tame lions, she pulled away the bed sheets and forced herself out of the bed, gasping at the pain of doing so. Then, step by step, Valerie walked out of the room, wincing but never stopping. Her mind was trained on one thought only, which was that she needed to get to her son. She needed to see that he was safe and no longer cradled in the arms of Phantom. She needed to see the open innocence of its eyes and assure herself that the resistance would survive. That her will to continue on was not misplaced in hopeless dreams.

She felt dazed, a bit shaky, unbalanced in every way. She felt like sobbing and laughing at once. "I'm okay," she whispered to herself, grabbing onto her stomach out of habit. No second consciousness responded. She was the only one in this body now. "I'm going to be okay."

As she held onto the stone walls for support, several ghost servants began to notice her presence. They gasped at seeing the Queen not only out of bed but also stumbling about in nothing but a loose shirt and shorts. She waved them off with a suspicious glare, hoping that she had in fact managed to hide all evidence of her emotional breakdown. Maybe she'd faltered before Phantom, but she would not be seen as weak before them. "Where's my son?" she demanded tiredly. "I want to see him."

Dora in particular rushed forward, eyes wide. "Queen Valerie," she cried out. "What are you doing out of bed?! You could hurt yourself!"

Valerie gave her a strange look at the additional title. "Don't call me Queen. I'm not a queen. And I'm _fine_."

Dora looked her over in a way that a concerned mother would, her sharp eyes taking in the dried tear tracks upon Valerie's face. The human woman looked shaken, like a trembling tree that had weathered storms. But when Dora saw that Valerie had suffered no further harm during her time with Phantom, her shoulders relaxed in relief. "Of course you are Queen," she said. Her face was tight with a false smile. "This is your title now, and I must abide by it." She could not say anything more, as they were both in the open space of the hall where any servant—or Phantom himself—could overhear. But she grabbed onto Valerie's arm and gently led her forward. "Lean on me, and I'll direct you to your son."

She nodded, and Dora guided her along, nearly floating Valerie off the ground in an attempt to keep her from walking too much so soon. "Look, I don't want to be Queen," Valerie said, voice uneven. "I don't know what that means. I don't _want_ to know what that means."

Dora tried to laugh to lighten the mood, but it was strained. "Being a Queen means the King has chosen you to rule alongside him."

"Yeah, that doesn't make me want to be one. At all."

Dora patted her arm. "I'm afraid denial would not negate reality. The King wanted to ensure your child received full honors as a legitimate heir. He made your title official after introducing the baby to the Council. He wrote your name upon the scrolls of royalty in his own blood."

Her face twisted. "He _what_?"

"I am uncertain of modern human political arrangements," Dora admitted, "but his word is Law. You are Queen now, whether you want to be or not. You are his chosen partner, and he has tied himself to you."

Valerie nearly groaned and sobbed and laughed. "Like a marriage? Like I'm a _wife?_ Fuck that, Dora. I'm not a Queen. I'm definitely not a wife—not to him. I'm a ghost hunter. I protect people and build weapons. I'm not cut out for this kind of shit. I don't want this."

The concept of _chosen partner_ did not quite kick in yet. She didn't want to think about that. It was too much. She'd probably start hyperventilating if she thought too hard on it, and then this shaky mirage that she had gained some kind of control over own her fate would disappear.

Dora tried not to wince at Valerie's rough language. By now, they were farther away from prying eyes and ears. Her voice lowered to hardly a whisper, breaking a bit. "If you protect people, then protect us all by wielding your title as a weapon," she begged. "He did not relegate you to a positon of a concubine, but _Queen_. Do you understand the difference? Whether you realize it or not, you're the most powerful person after him, if only because he wanted his son to be considered legitimate. I know this is not how you wish your life to be, but you could limit some of his decisions. You could help us _stop_ him if you play this right."

Valerie knew instinctively that Dora was taking great risks to even explain herself and admit her lacking loyalty to the Ghost King. Did this all count as treason of some kind? To speak against Phantom in his own lair?

Not that Valerie herself had a problem with that…

"Trust me, I'm going to stop him," she admitted softly, bloodshot eyes narrowing in distant focus. "If it's the last thing I do. I've got several bullets with his name on them for all the shit he's done."

But she didn't have just bullets. With help from her son, she would dismantle Phantom's empire. She'd ensure that no one would suffer as she had—to be almost broken past the point of repair.

And then maybe, just maybe, they could all rebuild in the ashes.

"…Our King is the most powerful ghost in the Zone," Dora said slowly. "Your weapons—any brute force—he can stand against it, especially with the Crown of Fire and Ring of Rage. You need to think of new ways to stop him. "

Valerie's thoughts paused. She turned back to Dora, eyebrow raised. "And what would those be?" she demanded, mind racing in curiosity to know where the ghost was trying to go with this.

But Dora never answered, perhaps out of paranoia that Phantom was listening somewhere. The trip to the nursery ended at a twist in the corridor, and she gently released Valerie to open the door for her. "This is where your child shall sleep," she said, "unless we receive other instructions from you or the King."

The nursery was something of a dark place, illuminated by only the glow of the Ghost Zone. The gold inlays shined like stars above, glittering in the twists of the green light. Valerie's eyes were beginning to acknowledge the green as natural of a light as the sun, and it bothered her when she thought about that.

Within the center of the room was a pure black crib. Its wrought-iron edges and bars were decorated with etched designs of monsters and ghosts from old legends. The latches were heavy, and Valerie's eyes narrowed.

It all looked like a glorified cage.

Dora paused at the door. "Would you…like me to attend your son?" she asked hesitantly. "I understand that his presence may trouble you."

Valerie waved her off. "I can handle it," she said. She did not want to admit how much she did care about this baby who had flipped her entire life upside down. But she looked up at Dora with an appreciative nod. "I…just want some alone time. You know?"

Dora bowed. "Just call when you need me." And then, like that, she was gone, materializing out the door before Valerie could even thank her or say goodbye.

She blinked in surprised.

The odd way in which people came and went in the Ghost Zone would probably always wear on her nerves. She sighed out some kind of groan before turning back to the crib where her baby slept. "This place is going to drive me insane…"

She felt as if she were in some haze, still fearful that Phantom would return with the intentions of not upholding their deal, still amazed that he had actually agreed to it. Was she still whole? Had she really escaped his presence unscathed? Was it best to just not think about it?

With a bit of trouble, Valerie leaned on the crib's tall edge to see him, deciding it was best to just focus on something else. The baby's blue eyes opened at the movement of the crib's bars. For a moment, its face was relaxed with droopy sleep, burrowed into the black blankets that swaddled it up. Then its lips twitched into a wide, toothless smile and giggled at her presence. Somehow, it recognized her, and she knew it.

She thought she could stare at his blue eyes all day. "You," she said, fighting down a smile of her own, "are ridiculous, you know that? Why are you laughing at me?"

The baby hiccupped and gave her an innocent look, its limbs unfurling from its body like yawning petals on a flower. She leaned over and gently pulled him up, wincing when her stitches caught and twisted pain through her abdomen.

"At least," she huffed, a bit breathless as she adjusted him in her arms, "you don't seem to act like him. Or look like him. That's a big plus."

The baby curled up against her, as if to reiterate its love and trust in her. He was warm, like a little radiator, and she reveled in the feeling. Valerie felt a bit uncertain with him, having never been so careful with anything her entire life. This was the future in her arms. This was the hope of the world.

"You saved me again, did you know that?" she said, voice rough with faltering strength. She leaned her cheek against its soft head. "All because you wouldn't stop crying and nearly killed yourself. It made him stop." She knew that had the baby not cried out what felt like forever ago, Dan would have probably continued to torment her, perhaps even gone as far as to carrying out his threats. She had a lot to thank this strange child of hers for. "It…made _me_ stop too."

A twisting guilt barreled through her when she realized that she had been fully prepared to let Phantom kill her not so long ago—which would have left this baby alone with him, at the mercy of a father who desired only conquest. She had not thought of that before.

Suddenly, the concept of motherhood settled a little heavier in the back of her mind, and she held the baby a bit tighter. If only for the sake of her baby, she couldn't give up yet. She couldn't die yet. She had to remain strong, no matter what circumstances Phantom created in his insanity, or how much he pushed her.

"He's going to try and turn you against me," she whispered to her son. "But you won't let that happen, will you?"

The baby breathed heavily, its little body contracting as it began to fall asleep on Valerie. It was carefree and unaware of the war that raged around him, its entire world constricted to his mother's arms.

She struggled to believe this innocent child carried the genetics of one Dan Phantom.

But then she thought about the way Phantom himself had cradled the baby with a strange, uncharacteristic love—the way he'd stumbled to admit that he did not want her to _break_. The way he'd actually stopped himself from hurting her, nearly begged her (in his own way) to feel something when he kissed her.

She bit her lip to hide her smile, which was darker and more twisted than she cared to admit. Now that she was away from his presence—now that she had the guarantee that he would not push her beyond what she could handle—she realized the potential behind Dora's treasonous suggestions. As Queen, she didn't need Dan to love her to manipulate him. To tear down his empire. To destroy him from the inside out.

She just needed his interest, to remain a necessary part of his life. And if she were truly the only one who ever provided him with challenge, that was a status quo unlikely change anytime soon. She could take his invasive warfare and insults for now, if it meant total revenge in the future. Maybe she could take those night kisses and use them against him too.

_ Queen_, Dora said. He'd named her Queen—not concubine, not mistress.

Queen.

She held close the little bundle of flesh that had saved her in both mind and body. "I think you and I," she whispered to her son in realization, "are a _weakness_ of his." A delightful, horribly calculating smile lifted her pale lips up as fire rekindled in her tired eyes. "And we're gonna bring him to his knees, once and for all."

The baby closed its blue eyes, listening to the lullaby of his mother's heart, which beat strong and loud.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: _I think that the other ghosts in the Zone would dislike Dan's hostile takeover, which is why I could see Dora encouraging Valerie to use her station as Queen to limit Phantom's power. And I know I twisted canon with Dora, but I like post-human bride Dora much better than witless, obedient Dora. I'm sorry if anyone has a problem with me disrupting canon a bit with that! _

_As for Dan and Valerie's relationship, wtf did I just write. This is a freakin' trainwreck. I'm pretty sure on a scale of 1 to 10, the unhealthiness of their relationship would be an 11. I felt I needed to address the problems that still exist despite Dan's acceptance of his child. I tried to make Valerie human—that she is not some invincible saint, but that she has legitimate fears oppressing her. And I think Dan is struggling under his physical desire for Valerie and his mental need for challenge and dangerous chess games. The questions now, however, are this: is Valerie playing right into Dan's hands? Or is Dan playing right into hers? And how will the baby factor into the chessboard?_

_If you have time, please leave me with your thoughts, predictions, ideas, or requests! I could use some help here, because I never imagined the "early years" taking up this much space. I haven't even given the baby his name yet! So much for that 5-part mini-series…_


	12. Masquerade

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP or Labyrinth (1986). _

_Hey, everyone! Thanks to Above the Winter Moonlight, lightshadow101, Cookieplzandthnx, starwater09, Invader Johnny, Crystalmoon39, Silverstone007, Xand'r Coldhearted, Brandie, Zanza Flux, and Dragonprincess for your thoughtful reviews!_

_This following one-shot is a request from __**Zanza Flux**__, which was inspired by the movie Labyrinth (1986), with David Bowie. This is my attempt to fulfill the request. Hope you like it!_

_Summary: Amity Park throws a luxurious gala in Valerie's honor for defeating Phantom…But is everything as it seems? Genre: Suspense/Romance. Rating: T._

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><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 12: Masquerade**

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><p>Valerie's cold, sweating hands ran down the skin-tight material of her dress. She had faced monsters. She had faced the destruction of the entire world and walked away from the seething maw of death itself.<p>

She could probably face this too.

Thirty minutes and counting to the official commemoration.

"Come on, Gray," she whispered to herself, running a shaky hand over her hair. Paulina had fixed it up for her into a cascade of curls swept back to one side. It was a smooth, suave, and ornate. The Latino had told her the style was all the rage in the fashion world, now that they had a fashion world again.

Valerie had grimaced and told Paulina to shove it and that if no one liked her hair the way it was, then they could go jump off a cliff.

Paulina had argued for nearly an hour. It was going to be a huge party—a masquerade gala held in her honor by order of the Amity Park governor. It was a cause for serious dress-up time.

"Seriously, chica," Paulina had said, yanking her down into a chair. "Everybody's celebrating that Phantom's gone. It's gonna be big. Ball gowns and masks. If you show up like you don't care, then it's gonna ruin the mood for everyone."

"But I don't care," Valerie said. "He's gone, so let's stop thinking about it and start rebuilding the rest of the world."

Paulina raised a brow. "You of all people should be happy to celebrate. You're like, Amity Park's greatest hero. You took him down. You deserve a little glory before it all fades out. Don't you?"

Valerie's nose scrunched, and she looked away to hide the strange sense of loss, and then accompanying shame, on her face. She didn't want to celebrate Phantom's demise. It'd been hard and painful—listening to him gasp laughs as he bled out, too paralyzed from a surrounding ring of Blood Blossoms to move. She had to watch the fear mist into his eyes as he realized he was truly fading out.

She'd broken the one deal she'd ever made with him, which was that they'd give each other honorable deaths, relying upon nothing other than direct attacks. Phantom's death had been far from honorable. She'd fought dirty.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Paulina, I just want to keep moving. I don't want to think about it."

"But that's the point!" Paulina fairly sang. "Since he's gone, we can rebuild spas and stop wearing fatigues and sleep in and—"

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><p>Now, Valerie nearly groaned, discretely readjusting the low neckline of her dress once more and eyeing the nearest party guests in fear that they would see. They didn't, too busy laughing in their groups and fawning over each other's masks. "I can't believe I let her talk me into this…"<p>

Paulina had also given her a simple, red eye mask to wear along with the dress, and she felt horrifically out of place in such an outfit. But when she saw everyone else wearing one, it helped a miniscule amount to hide her discomfort. It was probably a good thing she didn't arrive dressed in her battle suit or military fatigues.

The Amity Park Masquerade Gala had pooled every remaining resource to celebrate Phantom's demise. The old city ballroom (established in the 1840s) was plush with shining, marble tiles, crystal chandeliers, and an elevated stage. An entire live symphony played classical music, which wafted in the air along with the smell of cakes and desserts.

Supposedly, the symphony's violinist owned the last violin in the entire world. Valerie thought it was all a lie—legends to make the rise of humanity from the ashes of Phantom's wake all the more spectacular.

She didn't understand why it all bothered her so much. Maybe because everyone else could celebrate what she'd had to sacrifice and endure for. They could smile and laugh and play dress-up without feeling lost. They could carry on without feeling as if their entire purpose had ended.

Some of them even wore masks that depicted the ghosts the Resistance had defeated over the years. Ghost she'd had to fight.

Everything, in return, felt dull and strange, and she felt as if she were in a daze. She had tried to mingle and laugh with them. People cooed over her and bowed and shook her hand, complimenting her on her beauty and her outfit. But something held her back from truly enjoying it all.

She leaned against the windowsill and sighed as she watched her father from afar. Damien Gray meandered on the platform stage in the great hall. He was looking over the electrical cords, his black mask held in his hand. His speech would be in a half-hour for the official commemoration of Phantom's demise and Valerie's victory. Despite his spine bending from ten years of total oppression, his face shined with unmatched, fatherly pride. It hurt to see him look that way. She tried not to think about it, that he would be proud of her for killing someone—even Phantom—in the way she had.

The thought twisted her face into a grimace, and she wrung her hands, swallowing hard at the onslaught of traumatic memories. Years ago, she had _breathed_ for the day that Phantom would die at her hand. And now…

No—it was good he was gone. He had deserved the way he'd ended. All of his final, rasping breaths were like the bells of freedom, and she honestly would never think about him again or the way she'd vomited up the contents of stomach after it was all over.

Right?

_Right,_ she told herself, biting her lip. The small moments where he had teased her, shown some spark of humanity that made her hesitate pulling the trigger for the last time—those were too few and far between for her to question her judgment.

She hadn't killed a real person. Just a ghost. It didn't really matter how she'd done it. He was just a ghost.

"…You know for the Guest of Honor, you sure enjoy being a wallflower."

Valerie flinched, eyes widening beneath her mask. "What the hell?" she gasped, her voice straining against her whisper. She didn't want to cause massive panic in a crowded area. She resituated her weight to drop-kick the owner of the voice with her stiletto, fully prepared to use it as a weapon if needed.

She knew that voice. Holy shit. She knew that voice.

She pushed her red mask up with shaking fingertips so that she could see better, utterly convinced she was hallucinating.

There in the shadows, the supposedly-destroyed Dan Phantom leaned against the wall, arms crossed. A silver mask was pushed up over his forehead, pulling his fire hair back and reflecting the light of the tendrils like stars.

And he looked entirely, brilliantly whole, almost human without his jumpsuit. He wore long, black pants, a white shirt, and a blood-red vest. It oddly matched the color of her mask and dress, and she tried hard to not think about that.

Her jaw dropped. "What the—how are you here? _Why_ are you here?"

"I came to celebrate my demise," he said lightly. "Since you tried _so_ hard."

He still did not quite look sane or morally enlightened, but a new awareness glinted in his eyes and relaxed his face. He looked almost happy, especially as his red eyes trailed down the plunging neckline of her dress and high slit on the skirt, eyebrow raised. "You sure dressed for the occasion."

She flushed under the attention, turning away. "Yeah, it wasn't my idea," she muttered, but her mind was racing. After ten years of fighting him, she knew she had a little over sixty seconds to find a weapon. He would not attack her until he got his daily banter in.

Fifty-five seconds.

"Oh, I'm not here to fight you or disrupt the insects dancing," he said in amusement as he watched her. "I'm here to congratulate you. Truly. From the bottom of my nonexistent, black heart that you so kindly reminded me I have."

"I'll believe it when I see it." Her snarl hid her fear as she began to move away, looking for something sharp, something hard.

"What, see my heart?" He put a hand over his chest and smiled darkly. "I'm pretty sure you've already seen it, haven't you?"

She inhaled sharply, trying to fight off the memory of his skin melting off his bones, his chest cracked open…

He tilted his head at how unsettled Valerie was before him. "Unless of course you meant my sincerity regarding my congratulations." His lips curled up. He bowed before her in an extravagant display of Victorian etiquette, arm sweeping out. "Valerie Gray, I do congratulate you for slaying the _monster_ we all so feared."

She looked around wildly. Why the hell was no one panicking? Did no one hear him? Was he really just some kind of hallucination?

_Oh my God. Maybe I've gone fucking insane. I've finally done it. I've lost my mind. _

She swallowed hard as she stepped forward. _Only one way to find out for sure._

As he straightened with a self-satisfied smirk, Valerie raised her hand, eyes hesitant. "You can't be real," she said. And she touched his face, her fingertips running down the solid, cool skin of his cheek.

He closed his eyes at her touch and hummed merrily, "Aww, I missed you too."

Her fingers paused. "You're real," she breathed, eyes widening in awe. "Holy shit, you're really real."

He grabbed her hand, covering it with his. Their callouses grated against each other with friction. "Of course I'm real."

Then his grip tightened, and Valerie realized her mistake. Cold power stormed through her like a chill. Dan smiled darkly. "Now let's dance."

Panic set in.

"Let go of me," she demanded. She tried to jerk out of his grip, but for all of his near-destruction, he was still very strong. Her voice raised to a sharp clip. "I said, let me go!"

"I wouldn't bother screaming," he said merrily. "We're invisible and intangible now—no one's going to hear you. Isn't that great?"

"You let me go," she hissed, eyes dark with fear and anger, "or you're gonna get drop-kicked in the face with my stiletto."

"Shh with the fuss, dear," his large hand nearly crushed hers. His other hand came to rest heavily on the small of her back, and she inhaled sharply. "It's ruining the moment."

"Fuck you." She gritted her teeth, trying to think of ways to escape him that would not immediately result in a destructive meltdown of anger. If she angered him too much, he would injure all of the humans he was currently ignoring.

"I just wanna dance, Val," he sighed. His lips lifted in a wretched smile. "I'm tired and still regenerating from that last fight. All I want is a little _fun_."

He began to spin them around the ballroom, their invisible and intangible bodies sweeping through various party guests who were none the wiser. The guests laughed and guffawed at each other's jokes, their various masks shining in the low light. From this perspective, it made the humans look like ghosts—unearthly creatures with no greater awareness than their own happiness. Valerie gripped Dan's hand tighter out of instinct, half afraid that she'd be stuck in someone else's body if she let go.

Some part of her held onto Dan tighter in pure shock that she was simply dancing with him. That he was leading. That she was allowing him to lead. It was easy to follow his dance, as she was a horrible dancer and Phantom was actually quite good.

She narrowed her eyes, weary. "What are you planning?" she demanded. "Is this all some kind of joke?"

He looked almost hurt. "I just wanted to congratulate you," he said. "You're the only person who has ever almost destroyed me. I felt that a handwritten letter just…wouldn't be enough." That damnable smile again began to rise on his face. "I wanted to do it in person."

"And how are you still _here_?" she whispered harshly. "You were gone. You faded out. I watched it."

His red eyes flickered in amusement. "I have amazing willpower," he said. "For a couple of days, I couldn't manifest a body, but I held on. For a bit, I thought you had really exorcised me out."

She huffed, red lips curling down. "Don't think I won't destroy you once and for all. I don't know how you managed to regenerate, but I'll make sure you never do again."

The horrible problem with all of this was that a certain level of ease existed between them after ten years of combat and insults. She felt more comfortable shooting insults and bullets at Dan than she did dancing in a dress or laughing with strangers. Now that she was over the initial shock of his continued existence, she was almost relieved that Dan was floating before her, her hands solidly gripped in his.

She still had meaning. She still had value—something to fight for.

His fingers twitched on the small of her back, tracing an old, faded scar from several years ago. Her skin goose bumped as she stiffened, eyes widening. "I think you'd miss me too much if I were gone forever," he teased. "Don't think I haven't noticed how purposeless you move without me."

"I'm not purposeless without you," she snarled. "And get that damn hand up before I break your arm."

His fingers stopped caressing her skin, instead pressing into her spine, pushing her closer to him. "To be fair," he said honestly, "I think it's mutual. That fight was the most alive I have ever felt. In my whole afterlife—you really made me _feel _again. It's all I can think about now."

He looked almost reminiscent as he obsessed over her strategy. "The best part," he added in rising enthusiasm, "was that I _believed_ you when we agreed to give each other an honorable death. I didn't think you had it in you to do otherwise." He was grinning ear to ear, genuinely delighted. "Instead, you did exactly what I would have done. You monster, you."

The entire time as they floated in a dance across the ballroom, Dan discreetly pulled Valerie closer and closer, his body nearly flush against hers. Valerie hardly noticed until she was but inches away, staring up at his face as he looked down at her.

"You," he whispered, nearly nose to nose with her, "are truly my equal in every way. I finally realized that your will is as great as mine."

Her nose scrunched. "My will is greater than yours," she shot back. "I have something called self-control."

"You're as vindictive and vengeful as me."

"I have to protect people from you, ghost. I'm not just gonna sit and wait for you to show up."

"You fight dirty like me."

"You freakin' destroyed half the planet. Don't talk to me about dirty."

He complained light-heartedly, "You even have to dominate in conversation, which is both exhausting and invigorating, and I'm not sure yet if it makes me want to kiss or kill you."

"Fuck you, Dan. You try either of those things, and you're gonna get your ass kicked."

"But it was a brilliant chess game," he argued, mind reverted back to his near-destruction. "I can't even get mad about it. If I think about it, I smile, and I haven't smiled in a long time. I've never felt so dominated in my whole afterlife."

His cool breath billowed against her lips. "I'm thinking I should let you win more often, if only for the high it gave me."

"You don't have to _let_ me win," she retaliated. "I'll win no matter how hard you try to stop me."

"So dominating," he hummed, lips twitching up. "So commanding." His hand on the small of her back began to move up her spine to the back of her neck, fingers twisting into her curls. He leaned in and whispered against her lips, "I like that."

Suddenly, Valerie realized just how close they were, just how hypnotic Dan's eyes could be when they were burning with real emotion—desire. She had a horrible fear that he would try to kiss her and that she would let him.

With all of her strength, she shoved away from him. The second his hands slipped from her body, she suddenly fell through dimensions back to the human plane, stumbling back into a group of party guests who laughed and assumed she was drunk.

The force with which she pushed Dan stumbled him back as well, pulling on still-healing wounds beneath his shirt that made him wince. His concentration broke. He materialized onto the human plane, fully visible and solid within the large crowd.

Valerie's eyes widened, as did his. They froze in the lights and among the many gazes, curious eyes staring at them from behind masks.

No one said anything. Or noticed. Actually, everyone was quite content to see Valerie the Ghost Slayer standing opposite the very bane of her existence, the supposedly-destroyed Phantom—in the middle of a gala to celebrate his demise. A few of them even waved.

Dan's eyes narrowed. "What the…"

Valerie stared in shock. "They see us, but they're—not freaking out?"

For a moment, neither of them moved in either awe or shock. The crowds cheered and twirled around them, carrying on without questioning the sight before them.

"Something's wrong," Dan breathed. The gears in his head began to turn, and they tightened his face with a strange worry. "This isn't right."

"Damn straight," Valerie agreed, sculpted eyebrows raised up. She chanced a look at Dan, debating between tackling him down while she had the chance or running out to find a weapon.

Instead, he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him in the eyes. "Quick, what's the last thing you remember?"

"…What?"

"I mean, how did you get here, Valerie?" he demanded softly, worried for both himself and her. "Where were you before you walked through the front doors?"

"Easy," she retorted. "I was…" Her mind blanked, and her expression faulted. "Uh, I was…"

She could remember the fuzzy memory of standing before a mirror at Paulina's. Then nothing but the immediate awe upon entering the ballroom. Terror began to seep into her stomach, and her eyes widened. "I don't remember," she admitted. "Shit, I really can't remember anything. Can you?"

He shook his head, lips pressed together tightly. He grabbed her hand and began weaving them through the crowd. The party guests—where they really there?—laughed and shoved around them, blocking them from any exit door.

Dan growled and raised his hand. Hiding a wince, he shot searing, red light into the crowd, and a few people cried out, dive-bombing out of the way.

Valerie grabbed his arm and wrenched it back. "Don't do that!" she hissed, staring in worry at the fallen people. But she noticed that the air around them seemed to twist.

Next thing she knew, they were walking again among crowds who were dancing and laughing, as if nothing had just happened.

"They're not real," Dan huffed, shoving their way through. "Don't you get it? Someone's playing with us. None of this is real. The fight wasn't real. This party isn't real."

She stared at the spot where the fallen party guests had once stood and realized he was speaking truth. Even her father, off in the distance, was still simply whistling along the stage, holding his papers and not even questioning reality. "Oh my God," she whispered, a cold feeling storming down her spine. Valerie kicked off her heels in a hurry. Stilettos would get in her way if she had to run. "You're shitting me, right? What the hell? Is a ghost doing this?"

Dan grimaced in irritation, ire growing at the fact that he'd been deceived by a lie. "Probably Nocturne, that bastard. Don't worry—he won't exist for long once we get out of here."

They finally made it through the crowds to the exit. He shoved the wide, mahogany doors opened, and the two peered out in caution. Beyond the building, there was nothing. The entire universe dropped off into a void of darkness.

"Holy—" Valerie's voice cut off as she stared into the abyss. She didn't want to admit that she gripped Dan's hand tighter at the sight, as if to stabilize her in the midst of total nothingness. It went on forever, or it stopped right at the tips of their noses. No floor extended out beneath them.

Dan was just as disturbed as her. He gripped her hand back.

Valerie bit her lip. "Look, look. If we're both stuck in a dream—right?—then we just have to wake up. We have to do something that'd get our real bodies to come out of it. Like…" She hesitantly tilted her chin towards the darkness, "…jump?"

Dan stared into the abyss and saw himself reflected. It disturbed him, and he looked away. "No," he said. "Not that." He closed the door shut again and peered out at the crowds. The sound of a violin was straining high against the rafters, pulling all the party guests into twisting spirals of a dance. Their masks flashed in the light.

Valerie put a hand on her hip. "Well, what can we do? It's not like we got a lot of options here, and I can't stay. If this Nocturne guy put us both in a dream, then he's pulling some serious shit on the Human world. That I want to stop, right now."

Some kind of awareness overcame Dan, and a mischievous line stormed through his body. It almost out-weighed his irritation. He turned to her, the irises of his red eyes dark with a desire that made her swallow hard. "I think," he breathed, "I know what would shock us enough."

And without further warning, he leaned down and planted his lips on hers.

* * *

><p>Valerie shot up, electrodes on her mind and body snapping off from the force of her shock. The technology slunk to the ground with lifeless cables, and she nearly fell back in dizziness.<p>

Her lips tingled.

For one wild moment, she could still feel Phantom's cool body against her own, his lips caressing hers. Then she blinked, and the dream fully dissipated and opened her back to reality.

"What the—" She looked around in total consternation. She was on a hard, floating rock. She was in the Ghost Zone (she hadn't actually traversed to the Zone in years). The entire dimension spanned far above her head in a swirling abyss of timeless energy.

Sitting cross-legged beside her was her old enemy, Dan Phantom.

They looked at each other, suddenly in fear, then at the connecting wires between his helmet and hers. They had shared the same dream. It had been real for both of them.

Valerie swallowed hard, wondering who would make the first move. All of her weapons were gone from her belt, as was her jet sled. She would have to get really creative if Phantom decided to attack now.

Phantom, however, seemed entirely engrossed with other problems. "Yep. Nocturne," Phantom affirmed, holding the pieces of the controlling device in his hands. Shock and fear and awe all combined in his face, transforming his usually sly and psychotic expression into one strangely human. "That dirty, rotten…" Phantom's fangs gnashed against his lip. He looked excessively disturbed. "Can't even fight me face to face."

"Too embarrassed about getting beat in your own dream?" Valerie shot back at him, looking around to ensure that no more electrodes were attached to her body.

Some kind of discomfort crossed Dan's face as he ran a hand through his flickering hair. He looked shaken. His mind was replaying the demise the dream had given him. His nerves were burning with the feel of Valerie's skin and lips.

The desire he'd felt for her in the dream still felt real, and the force of it was strong enough for him to not even rise to her challenge. He stared at her, irises strained with a strange want. "You_ danced_ with me," he said. He tilted his head, flickering hair flaming about his shoulders. The dream helmet had snapped the tie holding his hair back, and the weight of the strands tumbled his hair down to his shoulders as he leaned forward, the filaments flickering. "You danced with _me_," he repeated, lips tilting in a lop-sided smirk.

She huffed to hide her uncertainty and embarrassment. "And you kissed me," she said, eyes wide. She tried to make her voice sound disgusted, but it strangled. "What the hell, Dan?"

"All in a day's work," he said. "It was either that or shooting you." He leaned forward, as if to divulge a secret. "I liked the first choice much better. Especially since you were wearing such a nice dress."

"I think I'd prefer being shot," she deadpanned, leaning back. She twisted and pulled herself up into a standing position. She brushed the dust off of her and eyed him wearily, as if daring him to attack her. "How long do you think we've been here?"

He stood as well, allowing the broken dream helmet to fall to the ground. It cracked into dust. "Dream time's different," he said. "Could have been hours. Could have been days."

Her eyes widened. "Days?"

Dan looked around at the abandoned Zone and grimaced. "Let's hope not. If I discover he's replaced my empire with dancing bears, I'm going to be very, very angry. We need to find him. Now."

"Whoa, whoa. _We_?" Valerie demanded, raising a brow. "What makes you think I'm gonna spend any more time with you than I have to?"

"You're missing your jet sled," he said. He wiggled his eyebrows. "You're stuck here without me."

"Please, I'll row this rock back if I have to. I don't want your help." She began to look around for materials, for a scope of her location. She could probably even float down to floor of the Ghost Zone and run till she found a portal.

"Oh, I think you need my help, Valerie," his lips raised up in amusement. "This Zone is a labyrinth. You'll be stuck here _forever_. Not that my world conquest plans wouldn't mind that, but I would find it terribly boring without you."

Valerie paused.

Phantom held his hand out to her with a sigh. "I'll agree to a truce," he said hesitantly. "For now. Just until Nocturne is gone for good."

She eyed his hand with suspicion before she realized that she had no choice. This all felt very familiar—almost like old days, when Phantom was still green-eyed and bushy-tailed, and she wasn't quite so jaded against him. "Truce," she nodded hard, shaking his hand with a firm grip.

He smiled.

Then his steel arm locked around her waist, his fingers grabbing into her side. The sensation was not entirely unpleasant, perhaps even reminiscent of the way he'd nearly cradled her the dance of the dream.

"Hold on," he told her.

Valerie hesitantly placed one of her arms around his waist. His steel muscles were cold. This was one of the first times she had ever willingly touched him.

Her hesitancy made him smirk, and she snarled at him in defensive fear. "Don't get used to this."

"Oh, but I could. Especially if you keep holding onto me like that."

Then they stormed up, their bickering echoing across the dimension.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _So this is my response to a request from Zanza Flux, who wanted to see Dan and Valerie dance in a dream, per a scene from the 1986 movie Labyrinth. I've been trying to get to this request, because it's been sitting in my message box since July. I hope you enjoyed! It had some dark tones in it, but I think we could classify this as a happier one-shot. _

_I believe I've received a few other requests from people, so I hope to start publishing those soon too. _

_If you have time, please leave your thoughts in a review. I also take requests! _


	13. Karma Part 3

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Above the Winter Moonlight, Cookieplzandthnx, Aiporn4, Invader Johnny, Lilith Jae, Crystalmoon39, Zanza Flux, Xand'r Coldhearted, MsFrizzle, Guest, PhantomOfTheBookStore, Brandie, starwater09, Silverstone007, ZoneRobotnik, and Roarri for reviewing last time! You are all amazing, and you make my day. :)_

_So I realized people may need reminders for the overall plot of these miniseries stories, now that we're switching back and forth every chapter. (Really should have just made these separate stories.) Hope this helps!_

_**Overall Miniseries Summary for Karma**__: Dan challenges Pariah Dark for the position of Ghost King and loses badly. As a result, Pariah Dark rips out Dan's power core and tortures him to make him an example for other enemies. He then throws a broken Dan to the resistance before claiming the human world as part of his empire. Valerie struggles with what to do regarding their strange prisoner and how to stop Pariah Dark before he destroys them all. Hurt!Dan. _

_**Karma Part 3**__: Although Valerie may be willing to keep the injured and powerless Dan from fading out in exchange for information to defeat Pariah Dark, many in the resistance feel that Dan still deserves punishment. Genre: Horror/Drama. Rating: High T._

* * *

><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 13: Karma Part 3**

* * *

><p><em>Pariah Dark grabbed Dan's bloodied, matted locks and yanked his head up. The half-conscious ghost nearly hung from his chains, unable to resist. <em>

_ "Well, little conqueror. It has been twenty days. What say you to surrendering now?" _

_ The smallest spark of rebellion straightened Dan's shoulders, and he laughed. The hysterical sound was gurgled, his eyes feverish and rolling up to the dark ceiling of the dungeon with aimless intention. "N-never," he rasped. The vestiges of his pride would not allow him, even under the pain of total annihilation, to surrender to another being. _

_ He was strong. His power core could hold out for a bit longer. He just had to think of a way to escape. _

_ The Ghost King hummed in disappointment. "What a terrible and illogical answer," he said, releasing Dan's hair. The younger ghost's head dropped. "I simply demand obedience, and yet you do not yield. It is as if I must…demonstrate how truly inferior you are." _

_ The Ghost King pressed his hand against Dan's bare stomach, and then a searing pulse tore through skin and tissue, and Dan's eyes widened, his jaw dropping with a sharp inhale that quickly turned to a cry of total agony. Something—many things—began to break within him, his mind shattering into disjointed seizures of light and sound and blood. _

_Pariah Dark dug his power in deep, slicing through Dan's vulnerable, shaking body with precision. He smiled. _

_ "Worry not, little conqueror. I'll take away what you hold dear, and I will ensure that you bow to me yet."_

* * *

><p>"So you're telling me," Valerie huffed, "That Phantom can't actually regenerate?"<p>

"He has no power core," Vlad said slowly. They were sitting in his small office. "Without it, he needs a constant supply of ectoplasm to keep from fading out. It's a miracle he even survived the loss of it."

"Which means we have to feed him every night?" she complained, running a hand through her ringlet hair. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Ghost physiology is very similar to that of a human's." Vlad sighed. "Just as we would starve without food, so would he starve without ectoplasm to convert into energy. A ghost's power core is the organ responsible for that, usually. It regulates conversion and regeneration, which is why ghosts are more efficient at healing massive injuries and projecting their power. But without a power core, a ghost is no more capable of supernatural abilities those of us from the Human World."

She thought about the way Dan had struggled to swallow, crying before her at the pain, grabbing at the massive and hardly-healed scar on his torso—right where his power core had once been. "Can we inject ectoplasm, then? You know, like an IV? Speed up the healing process?"

Vlad was hesitant. "We have very limited medical resources, Valerie."

In other words, he was trying to say, the resistance would not approve of using precious materials on their hated enemy. IVs were for emergency health problems, and Dan was relative, expendable. Unworthy.

Valerie rubbed her temples. "Not even just one shot? I mean, have you _seen_ him try to eat?"

The old man gave her a pained look. "I understand it must be difficult."

"It's sick. And he still hasn't healed up anything besides a couple of bruises. At this rate, Pariah Dark will destroy us all before Dan can write his own name."

Vlad admitted, "It could take quite a while, without a power core." He paused a second, then eyed her with a heavy weight. "Even if we requested special access to medical equipment, I guarantee the others will say that Daniel deserves the pain he is in. And perhaps he does."

A part of her agreed. Most of her didn't. "But he's not the same," Valerie said. "The Phantom that we've got locked away isn't like the Phantom that tried to kill us." She thought about the way Phantom had leaned into her touch, starving for any kind of positive attention. His cold skin had nearly burned her—and not from some ghostly power, but out of the fact that he willingly wanted her to touch him. "This one, I dunno. Whatever Pariah Dark did, it messed him up big time."

"Are you sure he's not the same?" Vlad questioned, albeit not unkindly. "He is injured, yes, but I've been thinking…We may very well see his true personality come out once he begins to heal. And then will we wish that we had never allowed him to heal so much. I tend to hope for Daniel's redemption with the heart of a blinded, old man. I am a fool sometimes, you see."

"So what are you suggesting?" Valerie narrowed her eyes.

Vlad looked tired. "I think it's perhaps to our advantage to keep him physically dependent on us."

Valerie felt her righteous side rise with anger. "So you _want_ to keep him crippled now? Dammit, Vlad. _You're_ the one that said we need to be the better man in all of this, that we could turn him into an asset for our strike team. It's not right to keep him dependent. We either let him heal up and then kill him if we have to, or kill him now and be done with it. I'm _not_ putting up with hand-feeding him every night."

Vlad's sigh was old and worn. "I know, I know." He tapped his fingers on the table. "But we need his cooperation if we're going to obtain information to defeat Pariah. We can ensure his cooperation through dependency. We cannot allow him to regain too much physical strength to oppose us."

"I spent a good hour last night helping him _eat_," Valerie said, a hand on her hip. "I don't think he's going to be able to do much anytime soon, cooperative or not. I need access to an IV."

"Valerie, the resistance is not going to let you use precious resources on him. Your _father_ won't let you." Vlad gave her a helpless look. "We will simply have to make do. The ectoplasm should provide some basic restorative energy, even if it cannot regenerate his...amputations. Considering his general noncompliance with anyone but you, and considering everyone's hatred of him, it is best if he remains nothing more than a hidden informant. We have many strong men who can take down Pariah Dark with the right information."

To avoid Valerie's righteous ire, Vlad switched topics. "As a matter of fact, Daniel's probably due for another dose of ectoplasm by now. Why don't you go check on him?"

"Why don't you?" she shot back. She looked disturbed by their conversation.

Vlad had the grace to look amused. "Dear girl, he wouldn't even respond to me, remember? Now, _if you're so eager _to see him heal, then go trot along and make it happen."

Valerie's face faulted.

* * *

><p>About twenty minutes later found Valerie standing at the edge of Phantom's cell.<p>

She breathed in deep, clenching the bowl of ectoplasm a bit harder. After yesterday's strange events, she did not know how Phantom would react to her. She did not know how to react to him either, especially now that she knew he was likely to remain this strange shade of himself.

How exactly did one start a conversation off with a worst enemy that they hand-fed, anyways? Was there a protocol for this? Was she supposed to act buddy-buddy to get him to trust her?

…Would he still act the way he did earlier, when he'd nuzzled into her hand?

From beyond the ghost barrier, she stared at him. He had not yet noticed her presence. He sat on the old bench, still leaning his back against the stone wall. His eyes were closed, his tied hands resting on his lap.

He had not moved at all since she'd left over fifteen hours ago. "Good grief," she whispered under her breath, eyebrow raising in (most certainly not) concern. The bruises and swelling that had marred his body seemed to have gone down, and his jaw appeared almost even, but he still looked only this side of existent. She wondered if it were possible for a ghost without a power core to leave a body behind when it faded out, like a human did, and then she quickly dismissed the thought because she did not like its implications.

No—Dan needed to survive. For the sake of the resistance. And she would ensure that he did so.

She walked through the ghost barrier, allowing her boots to shuffle on the stone floor to alert him of her presence.

His red eyes snapped open with a flinch, first in fear, then in realization, his breath quickening. Perhaps he thought she was coming to torture him. And in a way, she felt that she was.

She set the bowl down on the table before him. "I'm back," she said tiredly. "And I really don't want to be here, again. But you probably already knew that."

He eyed her, saying nothing, waiting for her to make the next move.

He looked so excessively gaunt and tired that Valerie found it hard to look at him for long. It appeared that he had not even struggled with the heavy rope that bound his wrists and kept his shoulders bowed forward in constant pain.

It was not unlike staring at a dying animal inside a cage, and some form of decency again forced her forward.

_Dammit, I know this is wrong. It's not right to treat anyone like this. _

She pulled a small knife from her belt, and his red eyes widened a fraction. She stopped, then realized what she had done, forgetting that this Dan was probably a lot more skittish than the one she knew by heart. "Geez, relax," she told him, rolling her eyes to hide her uneasiness. She kneeled down on the cement floor and gently wrapped her hand around one of his wrists. It was only for the good of the resistance. He was ridiculously cold in a dead sort of way, his hands a limp, heavy weight in hers. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just freeing you up, okay?"

She lifted his tied hands and cut the rope with a few, precise slices. His hands fell listlessly to his lap, even as his eyes widened in surprise at the release of tension all through his upper body. His wrists were a disastrous mess of ripped skin and ectoplasm, sapphire bruises mottling in rings. A few places shined with strange scars and infection. But they were free.

The realization seemed to hold him spell-bound.

"I don't think you need those," she told him, nodding hard. It was a decent thing to do—not rubbing in his imprisonment when he had no ability to resist anyways. Maybe she was just feeling guilty that this was going to be his afterlife for a long time.

For a second, he stared up at her in shock. Then his red eyes brightened strangely with tears, and he blinked and looked away. Valerie considered the possibility that this was the first time he'd had free arms for weeks. His breaths shuddered a bit as he closed his eyes, and she realized that he was struggling to control real emotions.

She remained silent, keeping her face stone-hard against him as she watched him attempt to distract himself by clenching his fists. He winced, and his fingers twitched in some disjointed curl, shaking. Even though the small action took all of the energy he had reserved, he looked relieved to know that his arms could work and would most likely heal.

"Yes, you still have arms," Valerie affirmed dryly. "Now stop looking yourself over and pay close attention. I'm not here to bust you out, so don't get your hopes up. I'm not here to make you feel good about yourself, so don't expect a psychiatrist. I'm only here to get information from you in exchange for healing you."

She pushed the small bowl of glowing ectoplasm forward. "So," she said, voice dry, "please tell me you can feed yourself this time."

He would not eye her straight, still trying to blink away the strange tears that had surfaced when she'd unbound him. He bit his lip, then hesitantly nodded. It was a slow, mindless nod.

Valerie was not convinced. "Really? Because I'm looking at you, and I think you're lying to me. I don't like being lied to."

Some kind of alarm tilted his shoulders away, and then he nodded harder in fear.

She stood and leaned over the table. His eyes widened at her inclosing presence over him, which was intimidating.

"Look, I wanna know just how bad this is gonna be for us today," she said. "I don't want fun surprises like watching you cry all over yourself. So let's try this instead. Open up that mouth of yours and let me see if you've healed anything internally. You understand?"

Valerie tentatively grabbed onto his chin, and he allowed her to do so, the action far too trusting for her to truly believe it was happening. Whoever this Dan was, she'd perhaps wormed her way into his center of trust—which was both fascinating and disturbing to think about. Or maybe he just didn't have the energy to oppose her.

Yeah, that was probably it.

"Come on, Phantom," she said, trying to keep her voice level. She was not entirely altruistic in her demand; she wanted to know the extent of his current regeneration abilities, to know whether she would one day see him stand with a fully regenerated power core and sharp tongue. "I'm not doing this just to make fun, okay?"

In reply, he exhaled softly in dread. Then, with an uncomfortable wince, he slowly opened his mouth. It looked as though the action pained him, even though his jaw had since healed from being broken.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to peer beyond his fangs. His breath billowed against her face with cold air like that of a snowstorm, uneven with self-consciousness. For a second, she strained her eyes for any sign of regrowth. Then she admitted, "Well, it actually looks better." She released his chin, and he clicked his mouth shut, moving his jaw about as if to test its limits. "The edges are healing over."

He looked almost hopeful and entirely depressed at the same time.

Valerie guessed his question. "Vlad seems to think you can't regenerate lost body parts without a power core. He's probably right, you know. I wouldn't get your hopes up."

Dan nodded slowly, but the small spark of hope fell from the twitch of lips. If what Vlad stated was true, then he was to be powerless and mute. If what Valerie saw was true, then his tongue was healing over without regenerating.

To distract him from falling into total despondency (Valerie really did not want to play psychiatrist), she said, "So now that I know you won't sob and gag like a baby, I feel a lot better about making you eat."

He looked up at the table and the dreaded bowl of ectoplasm. Then he looked at Valerie, fearful expectation and mild irritation in his gaze. It almost looked as if he were saying, _You try having your tongue cut out and then eating._

But Valerie was not a sympathetic person, nor was she patient.

"No, you're not getting out of this," she said firmly. "You have to eat again. Don't give me that look—it's for your own good. It's been almost a day. Vlad says you need to eat or you'll backslide. And because you're healing up better, you're going to eat more than you did yesterday."

He exhaled sharply. She guessed he simply did not want a repeat of the pain from the previous night. Or maybe he really did just want to fade out.

"You'll be fine," she told him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Seriously, I'm not going to ask again. Pick up that spoon and eat."

He stared at the bowl, almost as if it were a monstrous mountain to be climbed. He looked tired by the thought of it. But with a wince, he lifted his healing arms and grabbed the spoon on the table. It was a slow and painful process, and by the time he managed to wrap his fingers in a cohesive manner, he struggled to maintain the hold. The determination began to bleed out of him as hopelessness made him weaker. The fact that Valerie was watching so intently made it somehow worse.

Valerie sighed. "I'll be here all night at this rate."

So without any warning, she grabbed the spoon from his shaking hands, railroading over his meager attempts to feed himself in her own impatience. Her fingers brushed against his, and Dan's body froze. He looked at her wide-eyed, perhaps worried that she would punish him for being so incapable. His breath hitched as if he expected her to whack him with the spoon, or worse.

.

_"Well, little conqueror. I asked you to stand, and yet you remain slumped in your chains like a petulant child. Do you know what the punishment is for disobedience against the Ghost King?" _

_ Only darkness and lights filtered through now. The distant sound of cackling skeletons. _

_ He cried openly as he tried to stand on broken legs to save the rest of him. __**Can't I can't I can't**__, he wanted to beg. __**I'm trying.**_

_ Pariah's horrible smile widened. "It looks to me as if you simply refuse to stand. Why don't you explain yourself? Perhaps I'll lessen your punishment." _

_ His broken jaw was swollen, his chin and front still stained with the blood that still occasionally ran from lips. He looked up wildly in fear, mouth pulsing in pain. __**I can't I can't I can't—you took it!**_

_ The Ghost King was not amused. "It appears you refuse to speak as well." _

_ He became desperate. "Mgh!" He tried to stand on his legs, and they shook. The sound of his own voice warped pain to edges of his cut-out tongue. "Mmm—" _

_ "—Too late, little conqueror. This is twice today you have disobeyed me when all I asked for was a simple request." _

_ Tears streamed down his face as he stared at his captor in total hopelessness. He could not win. No matter what he did, he was always the loser. Every new punishment for not obeying weakened his responses, which meant more punishment. Which meant more of himself being mutilated. The never-ending cycle had begun to break him, and he knew it. He just wanted it to end—fade out or give in. _

_The Ghost King tilted his head. "But perhaps you're starting to understand after all. Are you having second thoughts? Do you want to obey me?" _

_Dan inhaled, then slowly nodded, if only to save himself from the consequences. _

"_Then bow to me as your king. See if you are capable of that." Pariah Dark loosened his chains. _

_Without the support of the chains, Dan fell to the stone floor not unlike a broken doll. The last of his pride withered. And he bowed on his hands and knees, his forehead nearly touching the floor. His fire hair had long since lost its spark, and it fanned down, covering the sides of his face. It hid his tears, which he could not control. _

_The Ghost King's voice rumbled in triumph. "How pathetic you are! So desperate to please now, ravager of Worlds. Perhaps you are teachable yet." _

_He kicked Dan in the ribs, and the ghost slammed hard on the floor, a ragged sound tearing from his throat. For a second, he lied there, stunned. _

"_In truth," the Ghost King mused, "I would like to keep you as a slave. A mindless, obedient slave for my own entertainment. But You, oh ravager, are to be my example to the Human world of my power. As such your body and soul will be fully broken beyond the point of usefulness. I will ensure that no one rises against me again, for they will look upon your remains and shudder." _

.

His immediate reaction of fear and misting eyes did not escape Valerie's sight.

Her lip curled in disgust to hide her disappointment and pity. "Look, I'm not hurting you. I'm helping you. But don't get used to my help, okay?" she demanded. "I need information, and you need to be able to write. That's all this is. Just business. Just an exchange."

When he did not respond, Valerie's voice rose. "_Phantom_." Her tone was firm but soft, as she did not want to frighten him further. "I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but I need you to respond to me. Nod if you're going along with this, okay?"

Still no response. His gaze was distant now, staring through her in fear of an invisible thought.

Valerie tapped the spoon on the bowl of ectoplasm. "Hey, space cadet. I'm serious here. Stop ignoring me."

Something, an uncomfortable strain in her voice, caught Dan's attention and brought him back to reality. He blinked, seeing that Valerie was not trying to punish him but was instead trying to help him far beyond what he deserved. And he nodded slowly, his fragmented mind rising with hope that she was a worthier master than Pariah Dark—despite her every right to exact a greater punishment than what he had endured.

She looked a bit relieved to see him nod. "Good." She dipped the spoon into the glowing ectoplasm and held it up. "Now, come on. I'm not gonna wait here all day."

He hesitated for a second, his mind's eye unable to think beyond the simple fact that Valerie was sitting before him, strangely patient in her own way.

Pariah had taught him that he was unworthy of everything but hatred, which was what made Valerie's distant concern a strange and wondrous phenomenon. Like a waterfall in a desert.

And so he obeyed her without question.

* * *

><p>By the fourth night, Dan had healed up enough to feed himself. He was wildly uncoordinated and he exhausted easily, as if his wasted muscles needed to relearn basic patterns. But Valerie said nothing and instead gave him a solid nod of approval after he finished a whole bowl of ectoplasm by himself. He looked more clear-minded, if not slightly absent of his usual character. Despite his physical improvement, he was still hardly more than reactive to her.<p>

At the very least, he was more open with his reactions, responding with a wider range of emotion than just fear and confusion. He no longer even appeared ashamed in her presence, but then Valerie figured they'd already breached the boundary of shame several times, between her feeding him and wiping his face and him openly crying before her in pain and sorrow.

She tried not to think about anything too much besides her core objective, which was to learn about Pariah Dark. And so late on the fifth night of Phantom's imprisonment, she descended to the cellar with a notebook and pen in hand, determined to obtain her hard-earned information.

She made her steps loud so as to alert Dan of her presence. She was going outside of their traditions and did not want to alarm him. But when she reached the last step and gazed at him from beyond the ghost shield, she realized he looked almost pleased by her presence, head tilting in curiosity.

"So now that you're halfway coherent," she said point-blank, formally announcing her presence with all of her usual tact, "I need you to do something for me."

One of his white eyebrows twitched up.

She pushed the notebook and pen before him on the table. "I've held up my deal in helping to get you better. I know you're still healing, but I need you to start holding up your side. I need you to tell me everything, like what happened to make Pariah Dark—" Dan winced "—escape his sarcophagus. What happened to you. How we can stop him."

He swallowed hard, but a deal was a deal. He nodded. He gently raised his arms (he had learned not to force this broken body of his into moving quickly), and grabbed for the pen.

But his arms and hands shook as he attempted to press the pen to paper. His white eyebrows furrowed a bit harder in concentration, then frustration as his body refused to cooperate with his mind. The act of writing was far more delicate than simply scooping food into his mouth, and he had not written anything in over ten years. For a second, Valerie looked as if she would stop him and say they could try again tomorrow, but he eventually managed to make his fingers work.

_How did I get here?_ The writing was nearly illegible and shaky, slanting a hard left. Valerie narrowed her eyes to decipher it.

"You mean here—like the resistance building?"

Dan nodded, red eyes curious.

Valerie was surprised that such a question would be his first attempt at decipherable communication. "Pariah Dark dropped you off." She figured it would not help to remind him of the shameful pomp and circumstance with which Pariah had declared superiority.

His face twisted, and he grabbed for the paper. _Barrier. Ghosts can't get in._

Valerie began to understand what he was really asking. "Pariah Dark took down our barrier," she said simply. "It wasn't hard to cart you back after that..."

She remembered it had been utterly silent when she realized that no one was going to touch Phantom. So she'd dutifully taken it upon herself to lift his broken body onto her jet sled and walk alongside it, guiding them both back to headquarters. It'd been something of a long and difficult process—especially under the hesitant gazes and trigger-happy fingers of the other resistance members, and the open green glow of the Ghost Zone that warned them of imminent danger.

Dan looked as if he could not truly comprehend her words. _Barrier gone?_

"Yes, it's gone." The thought made her a bit bitter, irritated that she had to repeat herself. "All of it."

He looked surprised and fearful. From the remnants of his time before the dungeons, he could recall that the Ghost Shield was nearly impenetrable. Perhaps he was not as safe from his previous master as he thought.

He pressed his lips together until they were bloodless, trying to make his handwriting more comprehendible. He succeeded only slightly. _What else has King done? _

The ghost hunter gave him a disgruntled look, especially when she realized that Phantom did not contest Pariah's title. "We're in the Ghost Zone," she said flatly. "And we're now part of his empire, where he'll most likely find out you're still existent and come back to get you. Unless you help us." She did not want him to think that he was somehow free of Pariah Dark, or that they would continue to shelter him without an equal exchange. "That's what this is about. You understand? That's it."

Something shifted in his eyes, and he looked away. He was silent for some time, appearing as though he wished to ask a thousand questions. He eventually settled on one.

_What do you want to know?_

* * *

><p>Over the next hour, Dan's mind frazzled from Valerie's bullet-fast questions. She had not yet asked about his specific time as a prisoner under Pariah Dark, and the two carefully skirted around it—Valerie, because she did not want to upset Dan enough to miss out on information more important to the resistance's cause, and Dan, because he did not think he could even write what had happened to him.<p>

Eventually, his energy ran out, the pen nearly limp in his shaking hands. He breathed a little harder as he became more irritated with his own limitations. Valerie had been asking about the layout of Pariah Dark's castle—in hopes that knowing the nooks and crannies would help for stealth operations. Her eyes had trained on him in great interest when she realized how much he really knew.

In truth, Valerie was probably the only person who could dictate his future–and as long as he stayed useful, she would keep him hidden away from the Ghost King. But now he could hardly write. He was losing his usefulness.

He could not afford to be useless to her.

Valerie leaned back, raising a brow at the way Dan was fighting a losing battle with himself and becoming more fearful of the consequences. "Okay, hot-shot," she sighed. "You're obviously wearing down, and I think my butt fell asleep in this chair a long time ago. Let's stop for now."

He looked up at her in confirmation, and she nodded. Then he exhaled in relief, the pen immediately falling onto the table. He winced as he lowered his hands. He'd left the edges of the paper stained with ecto-blood splotches, from where the raw skin on his wrist had cracked open.

Valerie grabbed the papers without fear or disgust and began to fold them. "We got a lot done," she said, tucking them into a zipper pocket of her battle suit. "I'm going to debrief my dad and the others with this, and then I'm going to send out some scouts to make sure you're not lying to me about the way to Pariah's castle."

He looked somewhat pained by the fact that Valerie was still suspicious of him.

She huffed, "What? Do you really expect me to trust you? After all the shit you've put me through? I don't care if you're crippled or not—your brain's messed up. I need to make sure you're not leading us into a death trap."

A blush of shame tinged his cheeks. His thin lips opened, as if he wished to speak, but then he seemed to remember that he couldn't. He wanted to tell her he had no reason to lie or disobey. He wanted to obey.

She stood up from the table. and began to walk out of the cell, but then she turned around. "Look, it's just a precaution. I don't think you're stupid enough to lie to me. And if all of this intel checks out, then….maybe, I dunno, I'll make things a little easier on you."

The unexpected addition to their deal made Dan blink. Valerie had no reason to make his imprisonment easier, even if he was being truthful. The deal was sanction from the Ghost King and healing in exchange for information—nothing more.

Valerie eyed him. "I don't know what you'd really want, but maybe we can get you real clothes or something, with a shirt."

So far, no one, not even Vlad, had offered Dan a decent set of clothes. He was still stripped to those threadbare pants of his, which did not shield against the draft in the cellar.

In response to Valerie's suggestion, Dan felt something swell within his chest, and it was a warmth he had never felt in his entire afterlife. As he marveled at its feeling, he searched within himself to find its source and grab on. He did not understand it, but whatever it was, he did not want it to disappear, and he feared it would—as all good things did for him.

Valerie raised a brow at the funny expression of confusion and awe on his face. "Get some sleep, Phantom." Then she left him behind in the cold silence of his cell.

* * *

><p>As Valerie slept later that evening, her mind fluttered with images of the information Dan had told her. Repeating the information and deciphering his horrific handwriting for her father and Vlad had strengthened her grasp on it, and even her dreams were attempts to work through several different stealth invasions of Pariah Dark's castle. Their electronic drones had begun to scout through the Ghost Zone—so far, Dan's intel was correct, as they now had solid coordinates to the castle.<p>

Her dreaming mind was a haywire of possibility, with images of what could be the greatest military strike in human history. Led by her.

She was smiling in her sleep.

But as she dreamed, something began to interrupt it. From a faraway distance, noises that were not a part of this dreamland began to invade. She began to hear shouts, and so she burrowed deep into her blankets, her smile twitching into a frown of irritation.

Her half-conscious mind pled with any higher power for the noise to shut up, but instead of dying out, the shouts only got louder, mixed with hysterical laughter. Then the sound of crashing objects tore her dream world down. Valerie shot up from her bed, eyes wide. Shouts. _Wait a minute—Oh my God, _her mind blitzed. _Phantom went crazy. He regenerated his core. He's killing people. It was all an act. _

She stumbled out of her bunk and slammed hard on the floor, haphazardly reaching for her nearby blaster. "Dammit," she breathed in disbelief as the nanoparticles of her suit began to form about her. "How I could I be so stupid; he was planning this!" Her heart was pounding in total rage and fear, and she began to run, turning down the hall to the door for the cellar. "He was faking it; dammit, he was _faking_ it!"

She feared that he was capable of great illusion. Maybe some hidden power where he could make himself look like anything—including a mutilated version of himself. Maybe this whole thing was just a conspiracy alliance between Phantom and Pariah Dark to take the resistance down from the inside. She felt horrifically used and abused, because she was just starting to believe that maybe this new Dan would not be so bad. That maybe she could take his broken foundations and rebuild him into something better.

_ I'm an idiot. I bet he was secretly laughing at me the whole time. _Her face flamed in embarrassment in shame. _Dammit, he played me into helping him!_

But as she nearly flew down the cellar steps, blaster raised, she came across a much different scene than she imagined. Instead of a red-washed massacre and a laughing Phantom, she pulled up short to the sight of several resistance members crowded around Phantom's cell, standing perfectly healthy and whole. And laughing themselves.

Her heart stopped in confusion.

Through the spaces of people's arms and bodies, she caught sight of him. Phantom was leaning shakily on his hands and knees, trying to drag himself away. And from the short glance, she caught a pool of green blood, the hanging of straggled hair hiding his face. She saw someone raise what looked to be a lead pipe, and she froze, eyes widening.

The lead pipe blurred down, and the fragment of Dan that she could see between people suddenly collapsed to the floor, his limbs giving way under the brunt force, disjointed.

Valerie inhaled sharply, and she yelled out, "What the hell is going on here?!"

Her yell barely had an effect on the scream and jeering crowd, as her voice was just one of many—easily overpowered. They cheered louder.

She realized that whoever had started this was still beating Dan. So she pushed resistance members aside without thinking, face twisted in absolute fury. A few of them fell under her strength. And she saw that lead pipe raise again over the heads of the crowd, and she reacted immediately, jumping into the center of the circle. In a quick slide, she twisted her body and raised her hand.

The lead pipe hit her palm with a solid slap, and she grunted with pain as she gripped onto it, allowing the pipe to fall a bit further to save herself from broken bones. It was slick with green blood.

People gasped at her sudden intrusion and her strength to jump before a swinging weapon.

And when Valerie looked up at the leader of the mob, she found herself staring eye to eye with one Dash Baxter. His eyes were red and bloodshot. The veins on his arms were bulging with exertion, still in the act of pushing the pipe down against Valerie's strength. He looked about as shocked as anyone else.

For the longest time, no one said anything, the cheers and shouts slowly stopping at the strange sight of Valerie standing over the beaten Dan Phantom, seemingly…protecting him?

She wrenched the pipe away from Dash, and it clattered to the floor. People began to back away once they noticed that Valerie emanated absolute anger.

While she was partially satisfied to know that Phantom wasn't in fact attacking the resistance, she felt vindicated by her own disbelief in his docility. It somehow made the fact that he was being beaten while she cursed his name all the worse. Her own shame spurned an extra weight of fury to her voice.

"What the _hell_," she said sharply, "is going on here?!"

A few people winced at the way her voice raised.

"Did he attack you?" she demanded. "Any of you? Did he somehow manage to break out of his cell, which still has the _barrier _up?"

No one said anything or dared to cough. Under the fire gaze of Valerie the Ghost Slayer, their words burnt up. They knew they were caught in something decidedly not self-defense.

Beside her feet, Dan Phantom trembled in shock, trying to force himself back up. Without looking back, she gently pressed her foot against his back. "No," she ordered. "You stay there." Phantom, whether he heard her or not, easily collapsed back to the floor, even under the smallest push of her foot. It was better for him to remain beside her, where she could protect him. Then she raised her finger at Dash. "And you have thirty seconds to explain yourself."

He nearly smiled, half-crazed. She realized suddenly this man was incredibly drunk. "I needed to get it out of me. You know?" A particular bloodlust infected the normally caring glint in his eye, which contrasted strangely against…tear tracks on his face? "I couldn't stand it anymore. I knew he was healing down here. I couldn't stand it. I kept waiting for you to off him, and you didn't."

Valerie blinked, mind reeling. "_Off_ him?" she repeated, eyes narrowing.

"Yeah," he nodded. "We figured you'd kill him sometime. But first we wanted some payback." He looked at Valerie as if she understood him. "Is that why you're mad? Cause you didn't get first hit? You can take some strikes still. He stopped crying out a while ago, but he knows he's dominated now." Dash's smile was twitchy, his voice slurred. "Like a bitch."

Her lip curled in disgust. "I don't get high off beating crippled mutes with a lead pipe," she said, voice halted. The more she heard Dash speak, the more she wanted to punch him soundly in the mouth. "I hate Phantom as much as you do, but I'm not sick enough to _become him_ in the name of revenge."

Dash's eyes narrowed. "What—?"

But Valerie turned to the crowd. "I can't believe you people," she yelled at them, her voice rough with righteous anger. "We say we're better than the shit we fight, right? We say we're humans, right? So why is it that you've woken me up from my nice, warm bed only to show me that hey, congratulations, all twenty of you can take turns beating up _one defenseless prisoner who can't even plead for help_?! You feel special now? You feel good that you've sunk to his level?"

A verbal tongue lashing from Valerie was never really pleasant.

She eyed each and every resistance member, memorizing their faces. "We all have reasons to hate him, I get that. But he was giving us _valuable intel_ in exchange for physical sanction from harm. And now—" she ran a finger through her hair, realizing she probably looked half-insane, "—you've probably ruined it, in the name of what? Some stupid revenge scheme, while we're all on the brink of extinction with Pariah Dark out to enslave us? Your stupidity disgusts me. I'm reporting all of you. Get out of here now, while I still think you look human and not like target practice."

As a high-ranking officer in the resistance, Valerie held incredible sway over the fates of several people. They paled and backed away. When they didn't move fast enough, she snarled, "_Now_."

The cellar quickly emptied out, with the exception of Dash. The drunk man remained, staring at her.

Dash looked surprised. "Are you really protecting him?" That crazed, off-kiltered look came back, and he hounded on her, "Is that what's been going on down here? Valerie, you keeping something important a secret?"

"What the—?"

"—You _fucking _him on the side when we're not looking? Cause I've wondered sometimes. Is that why you're protecting him?"

Her nose scrunched, not entirely because of Dash's alcohol breath. She was starting to get worried about the fact that Phantom was still lying on the ground, panting, bleeding out. She wouldn't be able to assess his injuries until everyone—especially _Dash_—left. Her heart swelled with great annoyance and indignation, especially at Dash's crude insinuations. "I've been gathering valuable intel on how to destroy Pariah Dark," she said, every word pointed. "Or I was. Until you all decided to go bat-shit crazy."

Dash stood tall against her, purple eyes hard. He moved closer to intimidate her with his height. "He _killed_ Paulina. He deserves this. I don't care what you think we can get out of him. He deserves pain. All of it. Every kind."

Valerie said, voice hard, "Maybe, but we operate under _rules_, Dash. If we don't, then we run the risk of abusing power, like what you just did." She pushed him back. "So why don't you start acting like a human being instead of a psychotic killer with a power complex."

Dash's tears returned, in both total brokenness and anger. Especially when drunk, he could never take an order, and he hated it when someone opposed him or called him out on failure. "No!"

He raised his fist and swung at her in a disjointed wave of rage.

Valerie smoothly avoided the punch, ducking beneath it, and then she used his own moment against him to twist his arms into a painful lock, eyes hard in disappointment.

He struggled against her hard. "He killed Paulina," his voice hitched, ragged. "She—"

"—I _know_," Valerie said. She could feel Dash's hard muscles clench beneath her touch. "I know. But we've got bigger problems now, and we can't afford this."

Dash's tears flowed without shame. "I want him to pay," he whispered, voice cracking with pain. "I—Paulina. I loved her. He killed her in cold blood." He struggled harder against Valerie. "I need to do this. Stop protecting him!"

She struggled to hold him back, her own muscles straining to keep him in a lock hold. He was too strong for her in a basic match of brute strength alone. She said, voice raising, "He's worth more alive—got it? We have to be the better men about this. We have to think about the consequences."

"Why?" Dash demanded.

"Because if we're not, then how are we any different than him?" Valerie shot back, eyes hard. She shoved him away. "When you come in here and beat him while he's down—how is that better? How does that make_ anything_ better? Dammit, Dash." She rubbed her temples. "We had a chance. A chance to turn his mind around. Now I don't know if he's got one left, and I doubt he'll cooperate with us if he does. So if Phantom fades out, and Pariah Dark kills us all, I'm blaming _you_."

Dash's eyes brightened with new tears. "I'd rather die," he said forcefully, "than accept help from that killer. You just don't understand. You've never loved anyone. You don't know what it's like."

In irritation, Valerie grabbed his ear and dragged him down to her level so they were face-to-face. "Let's get something straight," she said lightly. "While I've spent _ten years_ fighting Phantom so that I could protect the people I loved, you've spent ten years just exercising and drinking beer. Paulina died that day because you and her group weren't mentally prepared. So yeah, you go ahead and act tough, but you're always afraid of the real fights." She released him. "And I always have to clean up your messes."

Before he could respond, Valerie pointed to the stairs. "Get out of here, Dash," she said tiredly. "I know why you did this, but that doesn't change the fact that you went outside prisoner protocol for the hell of it. So you're going to report upstairs to my father and explain that we can't make battle plans anymore because you _felt_ like beating a crippled mute into the ground."

Dash paled a bit, his tears flashing. "You think I'm going to forgive him just 'cause he's injured? When did you get so righteous, Valerie? Why do you care?"

"This is business," she shot back, eyes narrowing. "A deal that we can't afford to let fail, and I'm not stupid enough to let my anger control me. So get out of here, now. That's an order."

Dash's jaw set, even as he inhaled shakily. But he nodded, because she was ultimately her superior officer, and he left, clenching his fists as he drunkenly staggered up the cellar stairs.

The second he was gone, Valerie turned to Phantom and inhaled sharply.

"Oh my God," she breathed, really looking at his broken body for the first time. She looked down at the tracker on her suit, and she realized that Phantom's signature hardly registered. Her face paled. "Oh no. Oh shit."

Valerie dropped down beside Phantom. "Dammit, don't fade out on me, okay?" His bare back was mottled with open wounds, where Dash had slammed the sharp edge of the metal pipe again and again. She could already see the near-black bruises forming down his spine, visible even through the scabbing wells of blood.

Whatever improvement he'd made over the last five days was gone.

She bit her lip and gently tried to turn him on his back, fearing that his front was perhaps worse. He was totally limp, nonresistant to her touch. But his bloody lips cracked open in a gasp of pain as she managed to turn him over, his raw back pressing into the stone floor. Valerie steeled herself against the sight of his face, because she figured it would be bad.

And it was.

He looked up at her dazedly, one eye already swollen shut, the other nearly so and half-way gouged out—as if he were crying blood. She didn't know how many hits he'd taken, but his features were distorted almost beyond recognition. Green blood dripped from his nose and lips, and bruises bloomed all over him, his long, white hair sticking to his face in sweaty clumps. His right arm was black with footprints, bent awkwardly at the elbow and swelling. His fingers on each hand looked broken.

Valerie swallowed hard, realizing that her own friends had done this, and she had slept through a good part of it. Her own _friends_ had done this. What if she hadn't woken up at all? How would she have known what happened? Maybe he would have faded out, and there'd have been no evidence that they'd personally beat him out existence.

She would have thought that perhaps he escaped, or willed himself to fade out.

"Can you hear me?" she asked him, trying to keep her voice calm. "Phantom, come on. I need you to respond to me. Give a grunt or something."

His lips moved in trembles, as if he were trying to speak. Blood was pouring from his mouth and down his temples. The slits of his eyes were unable to focus on anything, blurred with blood and tears.

Valerie quickly activated the comm on the arm of her battle suit.

"Kwan?" she demanded, voice short. "If you're not up already, get your butt over to Phantom's cell. We need medical, stat."

It took a heart-stopping second or two to receive a response. Kwan's voice was rushed and groggy, and the rustle of sheets echoed in the background. "_What did he do now? Who's hurt? I thought I heard voices, but then they stopped and_—"

"—It wasn't Phantom who did anything. It was everybody else, and they did it to him. He's in bad shape. Worse than before."

The man seemed to hesitate. Then: "_Give me sixty seconds_," he said, and then he shut the comm down.

She turned back to Phantom. "Look," she said, grimacing. "We're taking you to the infirmary. You're not gonna last if we don't."

And in that second, she realized with horror that Phantom was choking on his own blood, suffocating as it welled thickly down his face. "If you even make it to the infirmary," she breathed, eyes widening. She needed to do something, now. So she tried to gently sit him up, in hopes that gravity would drain the blood welling in his lungs.

He moaned and leaned on her as a drowning man would on rocks or a beach shore, desperately attempting to catch his breath. She was the only source of stability—of solid hands not turned against him. Every breath pained him now, his ribs expanding shallowly because many were broken and puncturing his lungs. He leaned his head back on her shoulder, his swollen brain and dilated eyes barely recognizing that _Valerie_ was helping him.

Perhaps she was only a hallucination. Perhaps everything was a hallucination, and he was really still lying on the cell floor back in Pariah Dark's castle...

He always hallucinated Valerie for some reason whenever the Ghost King finished with his punishments.

Whatever mental improvement Valerie had made with him disappeared as he lost all thought of hope or security, the careful foundations of trust and humanity she'd been trying to set with him shattering under the pressure. It was a lie. It was all a lie. This shoulder of Valerie's that was holding him up was a lie too.

Without even thinking, Valerie's fingers tightened around him. Her tracker alerted her that Phantom's ectoplasmic signature was growing weaker and more unstable. Something in the feel of his body against hers was less than solid. She truly feared that he was fading out.

"Don't you _dare_ fade," she demanded. "You stay here."

His cold tears soaked into the fabric of her suit, mixed with the slimy and strange substance of ectoplasmic blood. His breaths were uneven and pained. She could feel how much he wanted to let go—to let himself fade into nothing.

"They won't come back," Valerie promised, voice rough. It was hard for her to be comforting towards this strange prisoner of hers. "Okay? This won't happen again. Just…stay here." She could not afford to lose him. The resistance could not afford to lose him.

Just then, a loud ruckus stumbled down the stairs. Valerie looked up and, in relief, realized it was Kwan and a couple of associates, all carrying a gurney. They looked bedraggled and confused and worried.

Kwan called out, eyeing with shock the broken Phantom leaning against Valerie, "What all _happened_?"

"What do you think happened?" Valerie said dryly to hide her worry. "Stop stalling; get working. Now."

* * *

><p>Sometime later, Valerie stood outside the medical wing of the resistance building, gazing into one of the rooms where they had placed Dan. He was on an IV of ectoplasm now—of course. Damien Gray, the resistance leader, had personally ordered for it upon hearing the news that their only informant had been nearly beaten to death. A good portion of the resistance was on total lockdown for insubordination, breaking of prisoner protocol, and direct sabotage of an intelligence operation.<p>

Valerie thought lock-down was too easy of a punishment. But then, she knew that her father would not have even punished them had Dan no information to provide them. She was lucky enough to get the IV.

"So, how bad is he?" Valerie asked wearily. The Dan Phantom who was lying limp on a white bed hardly seemed like himself, his features were so distorted or otherwise wrapped in bandages.

Kwan crossed his arms in worry. He looked like a doctor now with his white coat and glasses, even though he wasn't one yet. "If he were human, he'd be dead right now. Internal contusions, broken bones, ruptured organs from rib punctures. It took me an hour to reset all of his bones. I would have never guessed before, but he has a skeletal structure _just_ like a human being, which is actually really fascinating to think about, considering that ghosts are supposed to be—"

Valerie gave Kwan a dry look, not interested in an anatomy lesson.

Kwan stopped himself, at least having the grace to see past his own enthusiasm. "I mean, yes, he's in critical condition. With the help of that IV, he'll probably survive. I think. I mean, his ribs already reset themselves, so that's good."

Valerie didn't want to think about the possibility that Phantom would fade out, so she asked, "What's his recovery time? I need to get important information out of him, which is kinda hard to do if he can't communicate."

He backtracked. "Well, I don't know," he admitted slowly. "I administered an anesthetic, so he'll sleep for now, depending on how his body reacts to medicine. But Valerie, I'm just a med student. I can set bones and take blood, but I haven't taken a full year of pharmacology yet, and I definitely don't know how ghost anatomy works. The dose I gave him could keep him under a couple of hours or a couple of days. I'm sorry. This is the best I can do."

Valerie rubbed her temples to hide her frustrations. It would not be fair to take her stress out on Kwan. "I know, I know," she sighed. She tried to give him an appreciative look. "I figured you wouldn't want to help at all, so this means a lot. Phantom's not popular around here. I wouldn't blame you if you'd refused."

Kwan could always see on the bright side. "I want to survive against Pariah Dark," he said, nodding hard. "If that means keeping an old enemy alive, then I'll do it." But he suddenly looked guilty. "Although I still stuck him hard with the needle." He added softly, "For Paulina."

Valerie nodded, a worn and tired sigh sapping all of her remaining energy. She swallowed hard, feeling old. "Yeah, for Paulina."

And so as Phantom slept off his injuries in a medically-induced sleep, Valerie sat in a chair outside of the room, a .40 colt in her hands, loaded with bullets. The resistance could not afford to lose the information Dan had on Pariah—even at the cost of human life.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**_ Sorry I've been gone for so long, but I had a lot of personal issues to take care of. _

_So I began to think about this miniseries and realized that Valerie and Dan aren't some isolated system. They're existing alongside a whole bunch of people trained to hate Dan. It was both fun and painful to write this, because a part of me thinks that he probably deserved what he got, but the other part of me was like, "No! A threat to justice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere!" (quote from Martin Luther King, Jr.)_

_I had some trouble with Dan's characterization, mostly because I write him as an evil person, and him as the powerless victim is still very much unexplored territory for me and for this archive! I dunno, was his character believable here? I think in a conversation with Zanza Flux, we talked about how if it was Vlad's ghost energy (his core) that made Phantom evil, then would it make sense that Phantom, without a core at all, would have no impulse towards evil? And if he did manage to regenerate a core, would he regain those tendencies? I'd love to know if you feel comfortable with the way I've constructed his mind in this miniseries, or if you feel I need to adjust something to be more true to the character of Dan. I tried to provide some flashbacks as justification for his behavior, but I'm not sure if that was enough._

_If you have time, please leave a review with your thoughts, questions, or requests! Thanks! _


	14. The Haunting Part 1

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Above the Winter Moonlight, Cookieplzandthnx, lightshadow 101, Lilith Jae, Invader Johnny, Crystalmoon39, Zanza Flux, and MsFrizzle for reviewing last chapter!_

_**Shot 14 Summary:** 100 years after the death of Valerie Gray, a couple of punks try to graffiti her statue. Something stops them. Genre: Horror/Supernatural. Two-part Halloween special!_

* * *

><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 14: The Haunting (Part One)**

* * *

><p>Some said the 100-year-old statue of Valerie Gray was haunted or possessed. It was very cold within a ten foot radius and icy to the touch no matter the time of year. Weeds never grew at the feet of it. Birds never perched on its shoulders. Some visitors and tourists said they felt unwelcome there, while others stated that it just made them very sad and lonely, even if they had been laughing only moments before.<p>

It had become something of a great tourist attraction, not only because Valerie Gray had perhaps single-handedly saved the world, but also because no one believed the effects of her statue until they felt it themselves.

The concrete statue itself was imposing enough. Nearly eight-feet tall and on a pedestal, the figure of Valerie stood straight-backed and tight-lipped, standing at attention. Her signature blaster rested in a holster on her hip, and her fingers were curled around it, as if ready to draw and shoot. Her eyes stared out into the vast horizon and looked not entirely as if they were searching for one Dan Phantom.

Some people said that the chilly presence was Valerie herself, still protecting them from the threat of dangerous ghosts. Others said that if Valerie's presence was chilled and unwelcoming, then her ghost was no protecting spirit. It made for a great debate, if not an uneasy one. But no one, not even the skeptics, had ever been endangered by the statue's strange affect, and no one dared to suggest bringing ghost hunters to exorcise the memorial of the greatest ghost hunter of all.

So the statue remained.

As the decades passed, history classes from high schools and colleges began to pilgrimage to Valerie's final resting place and statue. And on one autumn day, Casper High took a field trip to Valerie's final resting place and statue for a Modern History class.

"And here we are," the teacher droned on to his history class, motioning for them to stand around the memorial. He was a descendent of one Mr. Lancer, an infamous teacher back in the day who had actually _taught_ Valerie Gray in class. The descendant by himself was nearly legendary for it. "The memorial for Valerie Gray, the Ghost Slayer and Military Commander of the Amity Park Resistance. She upheld the status as commander for five years upon her eighteenth birthday, and Amity Park thrived under her watch. She was known for singlehandedly opposing Phantom and subduing him. According to first-hand reports, the final battle lasted two days straight. Phantom faded out after attacking Commander Gray with the last of his energy, and she died shortly of injuries sustained in that fight. Next month will mark the one-hundredth anniversary of her death and, subsequently, our freedom from the reign of the dreaded Phantom."

Of the students who stood in the crowd, most of them looked upon the statue in awe. Some of them were perhaps even a bit fearful to tread near the marble slab in front of the statue that outlined the Commander's final resting place, only six feet under from where they stood. Some tourists had previously cast lilies and roses upon it. Legend was that Valerie had loved flowers but had never received any in life.

But one of the students gazed upon the statue and the flowers with a dark smirk. He was a tall boy for fourteen years old, and ideas were swimming in his rebellious head.

He wanted to make a statement that no one would forget.

* * *

><p>Later that night, the teenage boy and his friend snuck into the courtyard, spray cans of black paint in their hands. They were snickering as they stood at the foot of the statue, staring up at the near eight-foot imposing figure.<p>

"So I don't think she really did anything," the first boy said, tilting his head. "I mean, she had a nice rack, but she looks kinda ugly. That hair is freakin' insane. Like she stuck it in an old light socket."

Valerie Gray's ringlet hair was jumbled about her face and neck in thick locks, a few strands artistically lifting up. Perhaps to some it was beautiful, but others in the past had compared it to Medusa hair. It made people avoid looking straight into the statue's eyes, just in case.

Punk 2 laughed. "Yeah man. All that talk about combat prowess? Ten to one, Phantom just liked her rack, and that's why she lasted so long. Whaddya bet?"

The first punk nodded, although he didn't laugh. "There's this whole conspiracy site about it. They say the last fight was staged and that neither of them really died. A couple of statements from people said it was too hard to tell where Gray had been hit and whether Phantom really did fade out. They're saying they faked it cause they were having an affair."

"You kidding me?" Punk 2 asked, eyebrows raising. "Man, I was just joking. You serious? Who the hell would think those two would be together, ever? She hunted him _before_ he went ape shit."

"Check out the site, man. It's got testimonies from people who lived back then. Said it was weird that Phantom would do stuff just to get her attention, and then they'd fly off for the rest of the day, and Valerie would come back without _any_ injuries at all. They said that before the final fight, Valerie acted strange, like she was hiding something. Some of the guys who tried to hit on her even 'mysteriously disappeared.' So Phantom destroyed most of the world, yeah, but Valerie wasn't a freakin' war general. She was just some slut in a cat suit."

"…You're telling me built a statue to Phantom's _fuck buddy_?"

"Damn straight," Punk 1 nodded. "Biggest conspiracy ever. Which is why we gotta ruin this statue. We're doing a public service. We're educating the town about what really happened." His nose scrunched as he stared at the statue. "I ain't gonna keep worshipping a _bitch_."

Punk 2 looked at the statue almost with more respect. "Are you kidding me? I mean, she'd have to have some serious skills in bed if she got Phantom to stop destroying places." He touched her leg. "Think about it, man. Think about it. She must have had him whipped. We're remembering her for all the wrong reasons."

Punk 1 rolled his eyes. "Phantom still destroyed stuff while they were fucking. Didn't mean anything to him. The whole 'final fight' was probably Valerie's idea, cause she couldn't keep her secret up anymore."

His friend challenged, "Then where are they now? If your conspiracy site's so right, wouldn't he still be here, destroying stuff? Why did he stop killing everything the day Valerie 'died'?"

Punk 1 shrugged. "Well, they rebuilt the shield stronger, right? Site says Phantom must have learned how to cloak his own ecto-signature. He could be anywhere in the world. Especially since Valerie would be way dead by now."

"That is…freaking terrifying, dude. Don't ever say that again." Punk 2 patted Valerie's leg again. "I'm very content with the idea that they eloped, and then he got sad when she died and…faded out or something."

The teenage mastermind frowned. "Look, Phantom could just be lying low until the town takes the shield down, and they're already talking about taking it down for the one-hundredth anniversary. The mayor says it's not worth the cost for how pointless it is." He shook the spray can with a grimace. "We gotta wake people up. We gotta save the world and stop worshipping a whore in a cat suit. Phantom _wants _us to think he's gone so that we'll all be dumb and defenseless when he strikes next."

"Oh, yeah? And when's that?"

His gaze darkened. "The site says he'll strike on the night of the one-hundredth anniversary, man. You heard Lancer. That's next _month_. And they're gonna freakin' take down the barrier if we don't do anything."

The teenage boy grabbed the flowers off the marble slab marking Valerie's grave. He tore the petals off the roses and stomped on the stems. "Gotta send people a message to stop worshipping a traitor," he said. He leaned down and grabbed one of the numerous cans of black spray paint from his open backpack. "You ready to make it rain?"

Punk 2 still looked somewhat smitten by Valerie's statue. "Yeah, I'm just remembering what it looked like." He paused for a second, trying to understand what it really could have been that Phantom saw attractive in this woman. "Okay, I'm good. Let's wreck it." The first boy threw him a can of spray paint, and he grabbed it from the air. "So what are you thinking we should do? Beard and mustache?"

"Well, that's a good start. And maybe we should add a Phantom symbol right on the crotch. You know, drive the truth home."

Punk 2 laughed. "Sick."

The single streetlamp along the sidewalk flickered a bit.

Suddenly, the lines of the statue darkened, its natural shadows creeping out against the already inky black of the night and the single streetlamp. An inhale of breath covered the small area with fog.

Punks 1 and 2 were entirely unaware. They had their backs turned as they opened up cans and snickered to each other, also pulling out keys to scratch messages into the marble slab.

The bushes and trees around them began to rot, their leaves shrinking and crumbling into dust. The ground beneath them shook, and the two boys lost their balance and fell on their butts, eyes wide. Their spray cans thumped to the grass, which felt ashy and dead beneath them.

"What the—?"

In the shadows, the face of Valerie Gray looked wildly twisted, her expression marred with great hatred. Her eyes seemed to emanate the silver light of the moon.

"Holy shit," Punk 1 breathed. "You seeing what I'm seeing?" He looked dazed by the light in its eyes, suddenly fearful that the rumors of the statue's Medusa status were true. Valerie's hair looked an awful lot like snakes against the moonlight.

"Uh, I dunno what's happening, man." The friend began to scoot away. "But that statue just freakin'—"

Suddenly flashes of memories that were not theirs invaded their vision.

From a far distance, they saw Valerie Gray, her body burnt and bleeding out. She was laughing and crying on the cratered dirt of a nearly destroyed Amity Park, her proud battle suit destroyed. Her wild hair was matted with blood, her limbs shaking. A dead blaster rested near her hand.

.

_An older man, one arm missing, dropped down beside the woman and began to cry. "Valerie! Hold on. J-just hold on." It was Damien Gray, her father. Others, several medical doctors, began to drop down next to the woman, shoving the father out of the way. "Baby girl, please!" _

_ The medics began to tear her battle suit open, but their bodies hid her ruined one. Their voices were hushed, quickly trying to staunch her bleeding. _

"—_Stress fractures in the neck—" _

"—_Heart stalling; need an AED, stat." _

"_Third-degree burns; left lung collapsed with—" _

_ Valerie's head leaned sideways. "H-he gone?" she rasped, eyes rolling. _

_ One of the medics said, "Confirmed. Dead hit on Phantom. His signature is fading out." _

"_G-g…" Her voice gurgled. "G-good." Then her vibrant eyes dulled into mist. Her body relaxed into the blood-soaked dirt. _

_._

Punks 1 and 2 suddenly dropped out of the memory, their eyes wide and burning with tears of horror. Whether it took seconds or hours—they didn't know. They looked at each other but did not see much. Their minds were ripped to pieces with the emotional weight of the memory, which carried with it a dark and alien sentience.

And to their horror, the realized the memory could not have been Valerie's, as the eyes they had seen her die through were from _a far distance. _

They began to back away from the statue on their hands, scooting away in a disjointed terror. "Shit," Punk 1 whispered, eyes wide. "Shit, we're—it's—"

"—true, man! Fucking haunted," Punk 2 cried. "Oh man, we gonna die!"

Dark mist began to collect at the foot of the statue, filling in together with a hiss not unlike that of a snake. It warped and twisted and glowed.

Then in manifested into a body. And they froze.

The face, the body, the cape was unmistakable. After several years of seeing his picture, they could not deny that the being before them was not only a ghost somehow existing underneath the barrier of Amity Park—but it was also _Dan Phantom_. He looked exactly as he had 100 year ago.

Phantom's eyes were as red as blood. "You insects," he hissed in absolute fury. "You ungrateful, insignificant _worms_." He grabbed their throats and squeezed just enough for them to understand that he was real, that this was all real, and that they were about to die. "You are undeserving of life!"

He was hellish and demonic, his fangs glinting in the moonlight, his breath a snowstorm that chilled to the bones.

Punk 1 was frozen, completely shell-shocked, his eyes bulging.

"You dare to insult your superiors?" Phantom snarled. "You dare to stomp on her grave and deface her statue? You would corrupt my own past with a _love affair_?"

Before either one of them could plead for their lives, Phantom cut them off. "I showed you my memory," he said, voice rumbling like thunder, "so that you will never question it again. Valerie fought me for two days straight. She kept begging for backup, and none came to help because they were _afraid._ Only Valerie dared to stop me. Only Valerie was strong enough to last. How fitting that your worthless species cannot seem to grasp even the simple truth."

Punk 2 cried, voice cracking in fear, "But s-she…She k-killed you! How're you still here?" He grabbed desperately at Phantom's fingers, trying to pry them off. For a ghostly being, he was incredibly physical and unmoving as steel.

Phantom's eyes darkened. "I've been regenerating since that day," he breathed, a maniacal smile twitching his lips. "And she's kept me locked under her damn statue. But today she finally saw her own folly. She saw how _unworthy_ you are of her protection." He squeezed their necks tighter, and they gasped. "So she let me go to punish you. And you've no idea how long one hundred years pulls at you when you just wanna…kill something."

They trembled under his aura and power. Punk 2 nearly passed out, his legs shaking. The mastermind boy simply stared in total shell-shock.

Then Phantom stopped, his red eyes tightening in irritation. His neck craned sideways, and he looked as if he were listening to someone speaking. For a time, only the wind whistled. Then he looked back at them. "But she won't let me kill you," he grumbled. "Or maim you. Or anything _fun_. Which is truly a waste."

He released them, and they fell to the rotted grass, gasping.

"You will remember her _wit_ as the only reason for your life. And you will tell no one of me," he demanded, "or I'll tear tribute from your throat."

Punk 1 and Punk 2 scrambled away, screaming and crying, minds blitzing in fear.

Phantom floated and watched in solid satisfaction, fangs bared in an angry smirk. Then he turned to Valerie's statue, the anger bleeding out of his powerful shoulders. He looked almost depressed.

For a time, he said nothing. He waited for all signs of life to disappear from the park, for the cries of the boys to fade off into the night.

Then his face truly faltered. He waved his hand out to the air in accusation.

"….And you died for this?" he said to the statue. "You died for these people who are willing to deface you for the hell of it?" He ran his hand through his fire hair. He snarled suddenly, eyes lighting a near orange. "They called you a whore and a bitch." He began to pace, and he laughed bitterly. "They called us fuck buddies. The rumors get better every year, Valerie! You should be here to laugh at them with me!"

But when the statue did nothing, even his depression gave way to total sadness.

In truth, Dan could have flown from the radius of Valerie's memorial with little trouble and destroyed Amity Park anytime, as neither Valerie's casket nor statue held sentient power over him. But he'd entered that final fight with the idea that he would truly fade out—that perhaps Valerie, if she were worthy, could end his misery. He had grown tired of dominating a world already broken by him, where everyone but Valerie cowered in his wake. It had no longer been fun, and he had felt listless and purposeless in the wake of that realization.

But there was no escaping the path he'd set for himself, and so he knew the only way to end it all was to go out in a flame of glory. To fight to the end.

Perhaps to Valerie, that fight wasn't staged, but for him it was. And everything was perfect and his power core was fading out and he wanted to maintain his image as the unrelenting monster and so he had shot at her with that final blast—

—And for the first time in her life, Valerie had misgauged it to the worst degree and bore its full brunt. Perhaps she'd been too exhausted to think clearly. The shock of watching her die kept his own destabilizing spirit in a strange limbo.

He had not intended to kill her. He had intended to die by her hand in a worthy fight. And as he began to regenerate without a final death blow, the realization that he was stuck in existence without a worthy opponent to end him morphed into depression, then obsession. His only meaning in existence remained in this small memorial to the past sacrifice of Valerie Gray.

"Look what we've become," he whispered, voice rough, mouth set with pain. "No one in Amity Park is strong enough to destroy me, and I'm stuck inside this damn ghost shield with you. And now you've got me playing bodyguard! This is sick, Valerie! Wake up and end this!"

The eyes of the state seemed to stare into his soul. The lips twitched up in dry amusement. _You? Protect **me**? _

Dan blinked in surprise. Then it was gone—the statue's expression was cold and hard and very much unmoving. It wasn't the first time he'd hallucinated like this, and it bothered him that he no longer knew what was reality or fantasy.

At times, he had even imagined—or had he imagined it?—that his ghost sense was triggering around Valerie's memorial. It was a faint sensation, like a tickle in the back of his mind. But nothing was ever there.

In an attempt to distract himself, he blasted the fallen spray cans out of existence, grimacing. "You're driving me crazy," he complained. "I keep thinking you're coming back, and you never do. It's screwing with my senses."

He then kneeled down, collecting the ruined flowers that the two boys had thrown about and stomped on. He had not allowed the flowers to rot like the trees and bushes around the area, but it seemed there was still nothing to save. He lifted one of the day lilies that he'd seen a small girl lay at the feet of Valerie's statue, and he stared at its now-broken stem and ripped petals. "Those damn kids," he growled, pained. "Look what they did!" He tried to correct the flower's brokenness, but it was dead and ugly. With a sudden, overwhelming hatred, he flung it into the distance with a cry of anger. He snarled, "I'll kill them if they show their faces here again."

The statue seemed to shift at that, the moonlight striking it just right for the eyes to look as though they were slanted downwards at him. Something in the gaze of that statue made it feel like she really was watching him. And disapproving of him, as if Valerie were saying, _They're just kids. _

He felt its stare, and glared back at the statue. "What? I left your_ precious_ and adoring fans alive. Don't look at me like that. They were saying we were together." He huffed to hide the strange discomfort and longing he felt. "They deserved a good kick in the ass for that. As if I'd fuck _you_."

Then the clouds shifted over the moonlight, and the angles of the statue's face suddenly looked haughty. He imagined she was both agreeing with him and expressing her displeasure with his insult. _Don't deny you flirted_, she seemed to accuse him. _If anyone's got ideas about us, it's all your fault._

Dan's nose scrunched, and he looked away, flustered that the moon could play such tricks on the statue's face. He squeezed his eyes shut. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he said in frustration to her statue. "I shot right because you _always_ move left. I didn't want to fade without making it look good. But now I'm still here, and you're gone. All because you didn't _move left_."

He inhaled shakily, a bitter laugh tightening his throat. "If you were going to manifest a ghost out of this, you would have done it by now, right? You'd still be here if you knew you didn't kill me. Right?"

The ghost paused, eyeing the statue hard, then the remains of the grass that had grown over Valerie's burial. "Don't you know," he called out in a challenge, voice broken "that I could still wreak havoc on your precious Amity Park? That I could take it over from the inside, just like those kids said?"

The wind whistled a bit as it struck the statue, and he almost expected some kind of apparition to appear before him at the challenge, blasters blazing, voice echoing in warning. Oh, Valerie would make a terrifying ghost—! She would be self-destructive and seething in hate for her own existence, probably, which would inspire her to hunt him down in perhaps an even greater battle than before.

But nothing happened.

He laughed out to hide a groan of pain, running a hand down his face. "Who am I kidding, you're just a statue. Why would you care? Why the fuck would a statue care about anything?"

He knew that the real Valerie Gray was lying six feet under the ground, wasting back into nature as human bodies did. Her burned and broken body had been disturbing enough to behold at death. He did not want to think about how she looked now, or whether the poor, wooden excuse for a coffin that she was in had rotted out, leaving her helpless to decay and insects.

Those were unsettling topics to him—to think of the wild and uncontainable Valerie Gray as a decaying body. Unaware. Helpless.

His face twisted with sadness and guilt. He looked away and said, "You weren't supposed to die like this, Valerie."

But he refused to apologize, as that was not in his prideful nature.

In an impulsive wave of emotion, he opened his palm, and from his ice core, he solidified a small sculpture of a rose. He had done this before whenever he thought she was watching. It was the least he could do for the crazy woman who had given him the best chess game he'd ever played. And who had in fact liked flowers but never got any.

He set the crystal ice rose on her marble slab. Its edges still glowed with ectoplasmic power, swirling a deep green with Dan's power. The intricate leaves soon began to drip and melt onto the slab, rolling off the sides and down into the ground of Valerie's resting place. The parched earth drank it in drop by drop.

"Come on," he begged, looking back up at the statue. "Wake up. Fight me. Say something."

The distant gaze of Valerie's statue suddenly looked softer, if not a bit amused. The wind laughed, ruffling his cape and the flickering ends of his fire hair. He closed his eyes, feeling the strains of the wind as it moved against his face. It almost felt like fingers, a voice whispering in a laugh, _Revenge. _

Phantom began to hope again that maybe something existed after all. That perhaps Valerie's soul—he just _knew_ it was trapped down there in that casket, it had to be—would rise up in sentience instead of just influencing other objects. That it wasn't just all in his head.

And so he drifted back into invisibility, silently watching. Waiting.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Happy Halloween (for those of you who celebrate!) Nothing like creepy, (possessed?) statues and ghosts and stupid people getting their butt kicked by the supernatural to make you feel right at home. I really enjoyed writing this idea out, because it falls back on more traditional ideas of hauntings, insanity/paranoia, and the reality that ghosts are ageless in an aging/changing world. I also think that the conspiracy of Dan and Valerie having some kind of relationship would be something that inevitably put Valerie's reputation at stake at some point, whether true or not. To add, this marks the first time that I've tried to write something with original characters commenting on dead canon characters. Felt weird! I hope no one was offended by the crass language used in this chapter, as I felt it was appropriate for the characters and their motivations. _

_This particular story will be soon updated with a part 2, because I had written this story to be much longer but was unable to finalize that part for today. Is Valerie's ghost real, or is Dan just hallucinating? Are the thoughts he thinks the statue has actually his own conscience? What would Valerie as a ghost be like? O_o_

_If you have time, please leave me with your thoughts, opinions, and requests!_


	15. The Haunting Part 2

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Above the Winter Moonlight, Cookieplzandthnx, Mals42, Invader Johnny, Crystalmoon39, starwater09, too enigmatic 2 b urs, ZoneRobotnik, MsFrizzle, Silverstone007, Xand'r Coldhearted, Roarri, Zanza Flux, and Bree for reviewing last time!_

_**Shot 15 Summary:**__**The Haunting Part Two:**__ Amity Park is celebrating the 100__th__ anniversary of Valerie Gray's defeat of Phantom. But there's some strange, ghostly activity at Valerie's grave site…Genre: Supernatural, Rating: T_

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><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 15: The Haunting Part 2**

* * *

><p>Dan listened to the trumpets and laughter with a grimace. Amity Park was hosting a large parade to celebrate its freedom from him, and everyone sounded careless, drunk, and wild. He thought them all insipid excuses for human beings. If only they knew he existed with them beneath their precious barrier. If only they knew he was haunting the grave site of one Commander Valerie Gray.<p>

In the past hours, the town had made its way to the memorial for the 100-year anniversary, where the mayor lit candles, and the people released dozens of flying lanterns that phased through the ghost shield with ease. He had watched reporters hover in front of the mayor, carrying recording equipment to immortalize the event. Many citizens had stood on their hover boards or gazed down from their hover cars.

He himself had simply masked his ecto-signature and watched it all from behind the statue itself. He tried to consider what it would be like for him in another one-hundred years, then a thousand. But he couldn't think like that. His mind fragmented a bit too much, and so he focused on the faces before him, suddenly wishing that none held wrinkles and that everything and all time would just _stop_.

The candles had all burnt to their wicks now, the wax melting into the still-brown grass. The people had left for their celebratory parade and drinking fest long ago, leaving the memorial a mess of flattered mud and deafening silence.

Dan Phantom now rested on top of the marble slab above Valerie's grave because it was the closest he could get to her. "You hear that?" he called lazily. He stared up at the dome of the ghost shield above them. It dampened the sight of the stars. "Everyone's drunk, just for you. This is what people are doing to celebrate your death. They're getting drunk."

Phantom received no answer, of course. The marble slab beneath him was as silent as the statue that shadowed above him. He imagined that Valerie probably would not have cared if people got drunk in her name. She'd approve simply because it annoyed him.

His nose scrunched, and he closed his eyes. "Ridiculous," he huffed. "If people are remembering you by drinking, then by proxy that's how they're also remembering me. This is not how I imagined I would be remembered. I imagined something far more cognizant. And fearful."

The wind picked up strangely, whistling through the statue as if in a laugh.

His face twisted in pain and disappointment. "Oh no, you're doing it again. Or I'm doing it again. We need to stop this."

The remains of his sanity were slowly starting to drip away under the grave site's strange behaviors, especially with the sound of merriment in the background. "Are you still playing chess games with me?" he called out to the air. "Is that what this is? Psychological warfare?"

The more he thought about it, the more he felt in tuned with Valerie's marble slab. It was cold, colder than himself, and he felt an icy unwelcoming emanate from it. "…What, you angry cause I'm lying on you?" He gave off a smug smile, placing his hands behind his head. "Well, then. I'll just stay right here. You know you like me on top."

The wind stormed through with a sudden strength, nearly pushing him sideways.

"Pretty sure I _don't_," whispered a rough, feminine voice. It was light, hardly a breath of irritated amusement.

His power core stalled strangely, and he sat up quickly in shock. "Valerie?" he breathed. For a second, he thought he saw a flash of red to his left. His eyes darted to see her. The entire purpose for his existence wavered in the moment.

But nothing was there. Dead tree limbs shook in the wind, which died down as soon as the blast was over. His cape fluttered about him, like an unsettled heartbeat. The whole memorial site was abandoned but for himself.

He swallowed hard in uncertainty and paranoia. Had he just heard her? Or was it in his mind? His fingers gripped the edge of the marble slab a bit harder, his knuckles turning white underneath his gloves. He hadn't had auditory hallucinations for a couple of decades. Surely, he wasn't so far gone. He called out, voice rough, "Come on, Valerie. Stop messing with me."

Still no answer. He could hear the distant revelry in the background and the occasional cry of Valerie's name. Even the syllables of her name on the wind rubbed him raw.

He leaned back on the marble slab, squeezing his eyes shut as he groaned. "I hate you," he complained. "Really, Val—you've redefined the meaning of evil. Enslaving me to you when you know I despise limitation."

Amity Park's tower struck midnight, and the people cheered. Dan sat up again quickly, realizing that lights around the whole city—lights on the shield towers—were blinking strangely. Slowly, the ghost shield above them began to retract down, the mayor speaking over the crowds with pride and reverence.

"Today," the mayor's voice echoed across the whole city, "we find ourselves no longer bound to systems of oppression or beings of tyranny. Today, we find ourselves no longer in need of the cage that has protected us. Today and for every day in future, we will walk forth as free men—without fear of the past!"

The ghost shield hummed and sighed as its numerous towers went permanently offline.

And though the fall of the ghost shield meant Dan could escape Amity Park, it made him feel suddenly more claustrophobic. His entire world was shrinking. Amity Park would move on. Valerie's statue would become just another statue, and he just another textbook anecdote. A deep, fiery anger bloomed within him. The present age was leaving him behind in the past—forgetting about him. He thought back to the boys last month who had dared to graffiti Valerie's statue. His fists clenched in fury. "No," he whispered, voice lowering with a snarl. "No, you will not forget us. You will not forget!"

But he watched in absolute misery as the shield dissipated.

In that second, he thought of decimating the entire city, sweeping it down block by block with his power. He imagined the cries of terror and the way the people's hearts would fail at the sight of him. Oh, they deserved it. They deserved it for forgetting. The ghost shield was Valerie's legacy, and they were forgetting.

"She designed it for you," he whispered harshly, voice cracking in hatred. "Every tower was hers. And you're ruining it!"

In his anger, his power core revved up, seething with decades of unused energy. He shot off his powers from his fingertips, sending a searing red beam of light across the ground. The power stormed through the ground with a hissing crash. And then he realized what he was doing, and he froze in panic. All thoughts of death or conquest disappeared.

_Oh no. _

With great hesitance, he turned his head to see what damage he had done. The ground had hemorrhaged open into a wide maw of dirt and dust, all the way across the memorial site. And then he saw that his power had struck the dark marble slab that covered Valerie's grave. It had blasted off the top quarter, splintering and cracking the remains.

His heart stalled.

He realized in horror that he had desecrated Valerie's grave site himself, which in turn meant he had destroyed his own memorial. He dropped down beside the crumbling marble slab and grabbed the pieces that had fallen to the dirt. "No, no, no," he moaned. All thoughts of the ghost shield left him entirely. All of his anger fled into great pain as he clutched the shattered pieces close. "You have to stay whole. You have to remain."

His fingers began to shake as he realized that he could not rebuild the slab. Valerie's name had been shot off into near dust. Her credentials and engraved messages still remained: _Here lies the savior of the modern world. Friend. Daughter. Commander. _But her name was gone. Her beautiful, brave name was gone. And just as her skin had been burnt and torn by his power, so was the dark marble finish.

"No!" he cried out, red eyes darkening in anger and fear. He tried to fit the pieces back together again. His breath hitched. An image of Valerie's lifeless, dead body invaded his mind, and he flinched. He flung the marble pieces away from himself, seething in hatred of himself. "No," he breathed, red eyes dark with pain. "It's all wrong! I didn't—" His voice hitched. "I didn't mean to…"

And a groan of irritation suddenly echoed around him. "_Aren't you a little old for temper tantrums?_" some voice accused.

Dan did not look up, eyes squeezed shut. "Go away," he cried out. The voice sounded like Valerie's. Another hallucination. His voice raised. "Go _away_!" He grabbed onto the locks of his hair and pulled, face pained as he leaned over on his knees. "I can't take it anymore! I just want it all to stop! Just stop!"

He sunk into himself, bowing his shoulders forward. He wanted to disappear. He wanted everything to end. His eyes began to burn with tears again. "A hundred years," he said hoarsely. "I can't keep holding on. I don't know what to do. I'm going crazy."

He wanted nothing so much as to see her before him again. His entire mind and existence depended on it, and here he was, slowly breaking under her silence.

How did ghosts who were millennia old exist? How did they not just…go insane as time passed? Clockwork was not to be counted, of course—his identity revolved around time. But most of the other ghosts had to make do with creating timeless lairs in the Ghost Zone, where they held onto their obsessions tighter than their own names. And while most of them were not quite sane, none of them careened in such total self-destruction as he did.

His obsession was tangible and human and gone gone _gone_—

"—You've ruined me!" he accused shakily to Valerie. From his fingers, ice stems formed, opening up into flower petals that glowed green. He dripped ice roses onto the destroyed marble slab, as if to hide the damage he had done. It was a peace offering, a desperate attempt to appease whatever held such control over him. "Just let me go," he begged, face twisted in pain. "I'm tired of this! Just—stop this!"

"_Quit whining,_" came the voice again. It was like a sigh against the wind, carrying the same exhaustion as he had. _"I'm tired too." _

Dan lost it. "Stop!" he cried, voice thundering into hysterics. He collapsed in on himself, his cape fanning out on the dead grass. "I know you're not there." He held his hands over his ears, and tears began to stream down his face. "I know it's not you. I need you, but it's not you."

The voice was more of an impression in his mind, a faint whisper over a solid declaration. "…_Why do you need me_?"

He did not answer, for fear that he was truly speaking to himself.

The cheers of the distant crowd turned to a roar as fireworks exploded. He flinched at the sound. Brilliant glimmers of multi-colored lights popped in the sky, one right after another. He saw their light and shadows pepper the world, and he tentatively looked up. Dan tried to focus on them as a means of separating out the real from the not-real.

For a time, he managed to distract himself with the fireworks and the clarity of the sky without a ghost shield. This new, rebuilding world had little to celebrate. He could not remember a time when they had sacrificed so much finances for a light show. It was beautiful in its own way—a small rebirth of the universe, just above his eyes.

"You should be here," he whispered raggedly to the air. "You would love this."

But when he looked down from the sky, he saw a blur of glowing red at the foot of the statue. He blinked hard. For a second, the glow looked like nothing at all—a cloud of sorts, or an image too pixelated or blurred. He thought it perhaps an afterimage of the fireworks emblazoned in his retina. But then the shadow materialized fully with smoother lines, breathing hard, leaning against the pedestal of the statue.

His ghost sense triggered, like a soft breath. His jaw dropped.

Between the dimensions of time and space, a spirit wavered. Its wild, ringlet locks floated above battle-suit-clad shoulders, weightless. Long limbs and tapered curves created strange shadows against the light from the fireworks. As the spirit straightened, shakily pulling itself into a stand, the moon reflected off the dark skin of a familiar, oval face.

Valerie Gray.

But something was wrong with this ghost of Valerie. Her side still bore the burns that had killed her, the material of her battle suit shredded and blackened. It was unsettling to behold her in such a damaged form, and he could not stare at her for long, alternating between great joy and true terror.

Phantom's eyes widened. Only weak ghosts could not regenerate their death wounds.

"Why," moaned the spirit's echoing voice, huffing a bit with exertion, "can't you just let me _rest_?"

Oh—her _voice_.

Dan was undone by her, truly haunted. He could not form words nor seem to collect his thoughts. After 100 years of existing without her, of having no challenge, of seeing his mind's eye replay her death again and again, his will had broken into fragments.

"Valerie," he breathed, voice hitched. He reached out to her, and she eyed him cautiously. Her glowing eyes flickered sharply to him, demanding an answer. He realized with a start that Valerie's once vibrant, teal eyes were red. They were a color deep like wine and blood and just as dangerous.

"For twenty years," she complained, "I slept so well. And then you—" she shivered, whether in cold or in total fury, he didn't know— "had to go and ruin that too. Like everything else."

The fireworks above them died away.

When his shaking fingertips ghosted across her arm, he realized that he could feel her, even though she was just this side of existent. It seemed to wear hard on her to manifest on the human plane. Her body shimmered as if to disappear, his non-beating heart pulled in deep fear that she would fade out.

Desperate to keep her on the human plane, he grabbed onto her hand and forced some of his energy to move into her. Her red eyes widened, her fingers tightening around his instinctively at the feel of his sacrifice. Her ghost form drank in the energy the same way a dehydrated human would gulp water. The power made her sigh in relief, and the gaping wounds in her side began to close up as she generated a fully functional ghost form.

He watched as her form smoothed out with flushed skin and reknit lines in her battle suit, the lines of her face relaxing without pain. Her glow strengthened slowly. She nearly leaned against him in relief. "Oh, I've felt those wounds for decades," she moaned.

He tightened his grip on her hand. "How much do you need?" he demanded. He would give her his entire power core, if he could. Anything to keep her here.

"It's hard to manifest a ghost," she said, breathing hard, "after you've decided to move on." She gave him a wry, miserable smile. "You can't do much for that, Phantom."

When he looked a bit worried , some kind of knowing smile curled Valerie's full lips up. "What, have you grown a heart or something since you killed me?"

A near-wince overcame him. He stiffened, looking away from her. "You don't know anything about me."

"I _didn't_ know anything about you," she corrected, eyebrow raised. "And then you came and bothered me for eighty years with all of your whining. So I know a lot about you now. I know everything you never wanted me to know when I was alive. Right, Dan-_ny_?"

He paled to a lighter shade of blue. Some aspect of Daniel Fenton appeared in his face.

She looked almost amused, but it was tarnished with a great sadness. "You didn't even intend to kill me that day. I'm angry. I always thought you'd at least be intentional."

"You were supposed to move left," he said, eyes hardening in pain. "You always move left. I was just trying to lessen the fact that you were killing me." His fingers tightened strangely on her hand as he gave her more power. His touch was strained and intimate with too many unspoken emotions.

She knew his identity. He hadn't thought, in all those years of wonderings, that she would put two and two together to know he was the remains of one Daniel Fenton.

Valerie pulled away from him, suddenly self-aware and conscious of their closeness. For eighty years, she had felt the weight of his tormented soul, and she knew the true sorrow that drove him. It made her…cautious in different ways. Her red eyes darted to the edges of the park in search of potential witnesses. She knew what this looked like. She did not want to encourage any more conspiracy theories than she had to.

"Twenty years of rest," she complained, trying to get her mind off of his strange behavior. "And eighty long years of listening to you talk me out of my own grave. You were driving me insane."

A strange, unfettered laugh choked in his throat. "_I _was driving _you _insane?" he said. "Were you listening at all? Do you have any idea what you've put me through? Why the hell didn't you manifest before now?"

"I didn't have the energy to," she said shortly. Her power core was weak. She barely had enough of a purpose or an obsession to maintain a stable ghost form. Her red eyes flickered to his, sharp and all-seeing. "I've been trying to move on for decades. But every time I thought I could let go, I felt you pulling up weeds. Scaring away birds and stupid boys." She leaned against the pedestal of her own statue, face worn. Some wretched smile twitched her lips. "Putting those damn flowers on my grave."

He looked a bit surprised at the level of sentience the ghost before him had. "You felt that?" he whispered. "And you still didn't say anything?"

"What, you think I _wanted_ to be here?" she scoffed, looking down at herself. For a second, she looked horribly vulnerable, almost uncomfortable in her own skin. "I hate ghosts. I tried to go back to sleep, laid in my own body for a while." She frowned. "I just kept waking up."

He looked almost disturbed. "Val, you can't fuse back with your original body. Rule number one of ghosthood."

"Nobody told me that," she snapped, red eyes glowing hot. "It's not like I knew about how ghosts move on; I just knew how to destroy them with weapons." She looked away, disturbed at her own grave site. "Not that there's much of the real me left to fuse with anymore."

Dan's face twitched in pain. He did not want to think of the body six feet beneath them. He did not want to think of the ghost-Valerie desperately attempting to fuse back with that body for eighty years.

She grabbed him by the collar of his jumpsuit and pulled him down so they were eye to eye. In his surprise, he allowed her to. She demanded, "So, since your sniveling brought me back, you're going to tell me exactly how I can move on. Because _you're _the one keeping me here." She tilted her head, eyes curious. "I want to know why."

In the soft moonlight, she could still see the remains of tear tracks on his face.

The ghost lowered his gaze, a fang biting his lower lip. Then he shrugged out of her grasp and turned away. "There's no one else," he said, voice halted. "I can sense it. The people are soft; they don't even have armies—they wouldn't last a day against me. And all of the other ghosts are uneducated and hardly capable of advanced warfare."

She laughed at that, and the sound was harsh with disbelief. "That's what this is about?" she said. "Fulfilling one of your weird kicks for one last fight?" She was bitterly amused. She leaned in, nearly nose to nose, and she lowered her voice with a threat. "Look, I don't want to be here. Do you understand? I'm tired. I want rest." Her ghost shimmered for a second, her will to stay crumbling under greater desire to simply fade out. She released his collar with a snap. "So why don't you just choose to fade out too?"

His face broke. "I can't," he said. "I tried to fade out. Don't you understand? I _need_ you." He wanted to explain that he was inevitably tied to the past—that as long as he could regret his decisions in that final fight, as long as Valerie remained dead and he could not die in a battle, he would remain existent. It meant he could not fade out on his own means; someone would have to destroy his power core. But he did not know how to voice such thoughts, as it was his deepest obsession, and ghosts simply did not speak of those things.

She clenched her fist with a wince. "You don't need me." She turned away from him. "I'm not even strong enough in this form to take you on."

"You could be," he said quickly. "If you give it time; powers manifest over time. You watched me grow for years. You could grow into something magnificent too." His face twitched, almost in psychotic desperation. "Especially if you have a reason to. I need you, Val. Is that not enough?"

Valerie paused for a second, turning around. Her red eyes were deep with many emotions. "I made my peace," she said. "I have no regrets. Alright?" She bit her lip. "I manifested this body so I could tell you. I'm going to let go now, and you're going to let me."

Already, her power core had burnt through the energy Dan had supplied her. It was temporary and finite—it could not replace her desire to move on.

Dan said, red eyes widening, "You can't let go yet. I need you to stop me." It was a strange thought, to find himself relegated as second best. As a lower priority.

The woman sighed. "I've listened to you for eighty years, and—" She inhaled a shaky breath. "—I know you're different. I'm ready to move on. You should too."

"But—"

"—Let me go, Danny," she said, voice softer. It was strange to hear his real name from her lips. "You're keeping us both here for no reason." A bit tentatively, she reached up, lightly running her fingers down the side of his face, a sign of just how much eighty years of his mourning and origins had affected her. "There's nothing for you here, alright?"

He grabbed onto her hand, squeezing tightly. Her ghost form was transient, growing more and more transparent. He tried to transmit some of his energy to her, but she snatched her hand away, eyeing him with an amused glare.

Desperation set in. "Valerie, I can't fade without you. And if you leave me here, I'll go crazy." He was nearly begging her. "Only you can put me out of my misery. I'll do anything to make you stay."

Her eyes swelled with great pity for this ghost who was her murderer and afterlife protector. She'd given him what he needed to fade out too. There wasn't much else she could do.

Dan's mind began to race as she flickered between dimensions. His blood red eyes darkened with frustration and anger. "No! Valerie—don't go. Please. Don't go yet. I need you to stay here!"

She could feel herself letting go, her ghost form shifting to align with something else far beyond the human plane. "Sorry," she said softly.

"I'll do anything!" he shouted at her, mood swinging sharply down. "I'll _make_ you stay!"

Something within her own fading core stalled strangely. Valerie's eyes snapped sharp at the tone in his voice. She faced him, expression twisting into something awful. "What—?"

"—I'll destroy something if you go!" he warned, tears streaming down his face. "A century of waiting for you; I've got energy to burn, you know I do."

She clenched her fists, her form suddenly more solid, her soul backing away from moving on. "Phantom," she said slowly, "neither of us want that."

After eighty years of listening to him, of discovering his true identity, she was perhaps more…accepting of his presence than before. But this? No, she could never accept fading out while he destroyed her town. Amity Park was hers. Not his. Never his.

Real fear began to seep into her, driving her power core to sputter awake in new ways.

Dan laughed something bitter. "I'll do whatever it takes!" he called out to her, voice cracking. He raised his hand, and from his fingers emitted a bright light that stormed high into the sky. "I'll make you fight me!"

"I don't want to fight anymore," Valerie said. Her voice was hard. "I just want rest."

He glared at her, eyes glowing bright with power and tears. "Can you rest," he seethed, "if I destroy your _precious_ Amity Park?"

"Come on, you know that—"

"—I'll kill everyone," he promised, seething, raising his chin high in stubborn pain. "I will decimate this town if you fade out, and as they die, I'll tell them that you could have saved them. But you were selfish and chose not to."

Something in the blurred lines of her body halted further. "You wouldn't," she whispered, red eyes wide. "Dan, these are innocent people. They have nothing to do with this."

"They have everything do with this!" He eyed her. "You wouldn't let innocent people die, would you?"

She lurched forward. Her body solidified onto the dimension again, her red eyes wide as she breathed in anger, "No." Her voice hitched in anger. Her power core began to spark brilliantly, her red battle suit glowing with the same power that filled her entire eye. "Don't make me do this!"

Dan's face twitched with a sad, desperate smile. "It's the only way," he said. He shot at her statue, and the concrete arm with the blaster splintered at the elbow and crashed to the ground in pieces.

Valerie flinched. Her purpose was growing stronger to remain. Deep red ectoplasm began to glow at her fingers, her power core revving up higher. "Don't start this again! Seriously! I just want rest!"

His face twitched. "I do too," he whispered. "And you're the only one who can give it to me."

And then he spiraled up, power storming from his fingers. The instant the power struck the land, it sent a blast radius that knocked over several trees and benches, cracking sidewalks. He laughed out a sob, raising his hands to target the skyscrapers in the distance.

Valerie screamed, her red eyes glowing something nearly demonic. "Don't you dare!" she cried out. Tears began to water her eyes. She lifted off the ground as if she were born to do so, her fingers instinctively curling. Red sparks shot from her palms. A sob of self-hatred and pain and anger hitched her breath at the feeling of the power. He was turning her into a monster, and she knew it. "Don't you dare!"

He chanced a look at her, unashamed of his own tears. "You're beautiful like this, Val. Just think how much more beautiful you'll be soon." And he unleashed his power, a bright light, towards the heart of the city.

Without thinking, Valerie blurred. "No!" She was but a red streak against the darkness that reappeared in the line of fire. Out of her subconscious desire to protect, a large shield spread out from her fingers, spanning across her entire body. Then the full brunt of his power slammed into her, its edges like electric shocks that sparked deep into her shield and then to her shaking arms. She cried out in a ragged scream of pain.

For a second, everything darkened.

Dan's eyes widened. "…Valerie?" His hand lowered as he watched his own power ravage her body into convulsions. He felt himself falter. This was not what he had planned. No—not at all. He had not intended her to take such a hit so soon.

The instant his power burned up against her shield, Valerie's entire form flickered. She began to dropped backwards in a free-fall to the ground, nearly unconscious.

He reacted in fear. "Valerie!" He blurred to her side, sweeping her up in his arms just before she could hit the ground. He pulled up hard in the air, clutching her body to his. She slumped against him with a groan and a half-flicker of a glow. "Dammit, this is not how it's supposed to work."

He cradled her as he lowered them to the ground. "You weren't supposed to take that hit!" he complained desperately. "It wasn't even aimed at a real building! You were supposed to attack _me_ in revenge!" He looked down at her in fear, as she looked entirely witless. Her red eyes no longer glowed, but some strange deadness echoed from the irises. He pressed his large hand against her left side, just above her sputtering power core. "Don't fade out—Valerie, do you hear me?"

He had pushed her too soon. Her power core was not developed enough for such defenses.

He was prepared to transfer more of his own energy back into Valerie. But her power core was resilient, and she quickly jerked in his arms, her eyes widening with a regenerating glow. She pushed herself away and tumbled into an unsteady stand, breathing hitching at the feeling of his touch and the agonizing punch of his power. "Don't touch me!" She tried to catch her breath as she leaned on her knees, eyeing him hard in great distrust and pain.

Dan seemed relieved. His arms were held out as if he were still holding something, for he could not shake how deep his fear for her had run, or his surprise at her quick recovery. "Oh, good. You at least regenerate well."

He knew he was relegating her to a purgatory—to be caught between worlds, yearning for one while obligated to remain in the other. But if it was the only way to keep her here, he would do it. It was for the best. It was for the greater good of them both.

Dan suddenly worried that perhaps his own suicidal tactics had attracted the attention of the Amity Park. His eyes darted around for signs of terrified human beings trekking into the ruined park. But lucky him, perhaps everyone was still too drunk and celebratory to notice the small destruction he had done.

Valerie's face darkened against him as tears rolled down her face. "I hate you," she whispered. "I hate ghosts." Her voice hitched. "I _hate_ you."

For a time, neither spoke. Phantom tracked her power core with narrowed eyes. It remained strong, her ghost form solidifying hard like a bright light. "Your hatred," he said levelly, tilting his head. "is nothing new for me."

"I know." She clenched her fists tight. "But dammit, for eighty years—" her voice hitched, and she stopped.

He raised a brow.

She started again. "For eighty years I couldn't hate you," she whispered raggedly. She looked tormented. "I felt you crying above me. So I stuck around, and I listened to you cry for me and talk to me."

Dan's eyes widened. That meant Valerie's true obsession as a ghost was perhaps not hatred of him, but something far stranger.

"I came back," she said shakily, "to say that I was ready to forgive you. But now you've trapped me here, and I can't let you destroy Amity Park." She openly cried in front of him, laughing bitterly at herself. "This is what I get! This is what I get for being stupid and thinking you were different!"

He growled a bit to hide his own pain. "You were going to abandon me," he snarled back. "I had to do something to ensure otherwise."

He moved closer to her. His shaking fingers gently grabbed her chin, and he forced her to look up at him. She nearly jerked away from him, but something in his gaze was so broken that she couldn't. She could feel his pain radiate into her. "I _need _you," he whispered, voice strangled. "I wanna die, Val. I need your help to do that. Can't you understand that?"

Tears slipped down her face as she remembered the decades that he had silently wept over her grave, sculpting beautiful ice flowers as a transient art for her eyes alone. For a second, she did not know how to respond to him. She wavered between anger and disappointment, then understanding and pity. Her will to hate him was breaking down into far more dangerous emotions that felt more natural at her core. She knew he needed her. For decades, she'd understood. It was why she was here to begin with. "I hate you," she groaned to him, squeezing her eyes shut to avoid his gaze and the potential that he would discover she was lying. "I hate you so much."

Dan did not beg for her forgiveness. He leaned his forehead against hers, reveling in her presence. He weaved his fingers through her wild, floating hair, as if to prove to himself that she was still here with him—that she had accepted ghosthood to give him his final request. He thought her a beautiful ghost even though she still had much to learn. She would grow into something worthy of destroying him, unlike the rest of the rotten world that had slipped into total incompetency and hopelessness.

The closeness of his actions radiated the weight of sorrow and insanity that had plagued him. He clung to Valerie tighter, and she allowed him to with a suffering sigh, feeling their two power cores revving together like a hum. It was almost a type of contentment or a satisfaction at the acknowledgment of the other.

"I know," she admitted slowly, "that you need me."

In that moment, they finally realized they were the alphas and omegas of their own misery. And they stood there, nearly holding each other up because there was nothing else they could do. As long as Phantom was a threat to the safety of the human race, and as long as he could not fade out on his own, Valerie could not move on either.

Valerie simply tried not to think about how close they were, or how softly Dan was running his fingers through her hair, or how much she almost wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him that she really didn't hate him. "Look, you've put me in bad situations before, right?" she said, voice rough with defeat. "So this isn't anything new. I'll get us out of here somehow. I'll…learn this new form, and I'll end you. And then we can both move on for good."

He exhaled softly, lips twitching up miserably. Her words soothed the fraying edges of his sanity. He reached down and squeezed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. "I'm counting on it."

And for the first time in decades, he felt hope for the future rise within him.

* * *

><p>The next day, hung-over citizens of Amity Park stumbled to the gates of their beloved park and noticed that some of the rungs had twisted under enormous force. Then they realized that benches and streetlamps and sidewalks were in shambles. They saw the ruined marble slab and statue of Valerie Gray's memorial.<p>

Upon closer inspection, they realized that the statue was no longer cold to the touch. The memorial did not carry its usual sense of sadness, nor did it seem so invincible.

They feared initially that a new ghost had arisen—some suggested it was Phantom's own revenge for celebrating his defeat. But nothing ever happened again in the city of Amity Park. Legend came to be that Valerie's soul had finally broken free of her body, which had inadvertently resulted in destruction. And so they celebrated and attached another holiday to their calendars, none the wiser of the masked ectoplasmic signatures that now freely roamed the earth.

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><p><strong>AN:** _So thus ends The Haunting. I debated on something much happier or sadder, but I felt that the ending I chose for this two-shot was perhaps more true to the characters, as a purgatorial state for them parallels their whole struggle. This is also probably one of the least romantically-charged stories in the collection, but one of the more empathetic ones, because each one inherently understands the pain of the other. Credit for the alpha and omega line goes to John Green, from his novel The Fault in Our Stars. Song inspiration for this two-shot comes from "The Haunting (Somewhere in Time)" by Kamelot. _

_I think it's definitely time for a happy one-shot now, haha, who's with me? Although I could be convinced to add one more installment of this small series in the future, if only because Valerie as a ghost is intriguing. I also have some pretty serious updates to do for some other stories of mine like Chained and Powerless and Quantum Paradox, so keep an eye out for those!_

_If you have time, please let me know your thoughts, comments, or one-shot requests in a review!_


	16. Intermission: Wardrobe Malfunctions

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

_Thanks to cookieplzandthnx, Above the Winter Moonlight, Zanza Flux, Invader Johnny, starwater09, Crystalmoon39, ZoneRobotnik, Xand'r Coldhearted, MsFrizzle, and Zighana for reviewing! _

_**Shot 16 Summary:**__ Dan may not be thankful for many things, but he can certainly appreciate Valerie's wardrobe malfunctions. Rating: T, Genre: Humor/Romance_

_I was going to upload this during Thanksgiving week, but life happened. Sorry about that wait!_

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><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 16: Intermission: Wardrobe Malfunctions**

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><p>By the time Valerie turned sixteen years old, she had become the foremost expert for kicking Phantom's butt. Amity Park relied upon her to fight him off while they finished constructing the most advanced Ghost Shield known to man. This meant that she often spent most of her day trying to deter Phantom from disrupting construction. It was becoming a harder and harder task—he'd grown in both power and body the last several years. He now far outmatched her in brute strength.<p>

And that day, they were at it again, far out in the Wastelands where the young Red Hunter had chased him.

Phantom's body twisted around Valerie's spiraling blasts, and he laughed. "Gonna have to do better than that!" he called at her, racing over the Wastelands at top speed.

Valerie was only seconds behind him, pushing her jet sled to its limit. "Trust me," she snarled under her breath, "I can." She leveled her grenade launcher at him.

In his overconfidence, the sixteen-year-old ghost failed to avoid a blast that caught him in the shoulder blade and sent him careening off course. "Next time's your face!" Valerie promised triumphantly, reloading a new clip into her weapon. She kicked on the afterburners on her jet sled in an attempt to catch up.

Dan snarled in annoyance. He quickly tried to right himself, and he swooped back up into the sky, his shoulder aching from the power of Valerie's weapon. She'd recalibrated them again to match his power. Something about her adaptability spurned him with respect and irritation. So instead of simply allowing her to chase him, he flew back around and stormed straight for her in a blur.

"How about you stop hiding behind your guns?" he hissed. Before Valerie could move, his hand clamped down on her weapon, and he wrenched it away, toppling Valerie off of her jet sled. She moved into an instinctive roll, preparing her body to somersault to the ground.

But then something happened as she curled in on herself. Buttons that fastened the front of her old suit popped off. Multiple seams down her body ripped.

Valerie froze in total horror, which threw off her tumble. She slammed into the ground at an awkward angle. Clouds of dust and dirt raised around her from the impact.

From a short distance away, Dan laughed, completely oblivious to what had actually happened. "How graceful!" he sneered at her as he flew closer. The dust had begun to settle around Valerie, who had yet to move. "For being a black belt, you've got horrible technique. You know, Valerie, maybe you should do us both a favor and just—" His voice trailed off suddenly "—give…up…"

The dust had fully cleared and revealed the fallen Red Hunter. Valerie's battle suit had snapped at the buttons and the seams, the front torn open from the force of hitting the ground. Her breath was a shuddering, pained hitch, which made the ripped material stretch and slink off of her more.

Dan's eyes widened. His grip on Valerie's grenade launcher slipped, and it clattered to the ground, forgotten.

And perhaps he was a ghost, but Dan was nothing if not distinctly male. Several sections of Dan's brain began to shut down. His jaw dropped as he drank in the sight of the white bra beneath Valerie's suit and the dark skin of her cleavage and smooth, flat stomach—shadows and curves that were entirely, unmistakable female. One of her suit's side seams had ripped as well, storming down her waist to expose the full swell of her hips.

Dan swallowed hard, eyes darkening in a desire he had not felt in years.

For several seconds, Valerie did not move but simply tried to catch her breath. Falling from several feet in the air had knocked the wind out of her. Her teal eyes were sightless, her limbs like dead weights.

Then, slowly, her brain recalibrated from the fall. She groaned, completely disoriented. She tentatively raised an arm, and then she realized that the cloth material had ripped at the elbow….and up. As a matter of fact, she could feel a lot of wind. Everywhere.

Valerie squeaked, eyes widening. She haphazardly grabbed onto the button-less front flap of her suit and pressed it against her chest, face flaming red as she sat up. She tried to stand, but it was shaky with fear and embarrassment, along with pain from falling. Her fingers desperately grabbed for a small blaster holstered on her thigh.

When she levelled the weapon at Dan, she realized he looked almost just as flustered and shocked as she did. But then he quickly recovered, and a smirky, triumphant little smile tilted his lips. He eyed her up and down in unashamed appreciation. "Wow, Valerie. I knew you were well-endowed, but…"

Frustrated tears welled up in Valerie's eyes. She raised her blaster with one hand while trying to cover herself with the other. "Stay back!" Between her life or her modesty, life was more important. But that didn't mean she'd give up the other if she didn't have to.

Dan laughed at her, mirth shaking the powerful lines of his shoulders. "This is wonderful. Please tell me you've programmed your suit to do that all the time."

"Shut up," she snapped. "I didn't."

He picked at the sleeve of his suit, which was an inversion of colors from what his old one had been. It far better fit the outline of his ever-hardening body. "Your suit's been tight for a while. You should consider getting a new one too."

Valerie's face was pained. "They're working on it," she said. She'd been struggling to wiggle into her old suit and button the front. Her new battle suit, designed for her more adult body, was still no more than halfway complete. She had no choice but to try fighting without it.

He waggled his eyebrows. "Aww, is little Valerie growing up too?" His smile stretched too wide. "Getting bigger in all the right places?"

She gave him the dirtiest look she could. "You stay away," she said. A very real fear overcame her that tightened every line in her body. After their few years of him rudely flirting and trying to grab for her, she knew that Dan was probably not above taking advantage of her. Her tears of frustration turned to tears of fear. "Don't you dare come near me."

The same thought crossed both of their minds. For a time, Dan's red eyes seemed to glow with dark temptation, and he licked his lips. "Why not?" he challenged, voice dropping to a huskier register. His voice had already dropped in tone from simply growing up; now it sounded nearly demonic, vibrating into the ground beneath her feet. He stepped forward, and she stepped back, shaking. "You just reminded me how long it's been since I… indulged some basic instincts."

Images of one Samantha Manson rose in his mind—but she'd always been a stick. The Valerie before him was a real woman, with real curves to get lost in.

He could feel Valerie's fear heighten to almost tangible levels.

Her fingers hooked harder into the material she was trying to keep together over her chest. "D-don't," she demanded, voice wavering. Showing fear was almost always a death wish with Phantom. Her breath hitched strangely, and for the first time, she was truly afraid of him and what he would do to her.

But Dan simply stood before her. He seemed to measure her up for a second. Then he rolled his eyes and sighed, restraining the desire that tightened the lines of his body. "Oh, Valerie," he said in teasing disappointment. "You're no _fun_ when you're compromised. You lose your imagination and then accuse me of being something less than a superior being."

She blinked, afraid to move or say anything to tip the scales against her.

With a swift, decisive movement, he unclipped his black cape from his collar. Its heavy weight floated from his hand, and he lightly held it out to her. "Here," he said.

Valerie stared at the offered cloak as if it were a mystery of life. "…What?"

"Take it," he demanded, still staring at her body without shame. "I can't see you as simply an opponent if you're half-dressed. It's very distracting."

Her jaw dropped a bit, and she stared at him dumbly.

He dangled the cape a little harder before her. "I'm not going to hold this out all day," he said, irritated.

Valerie hesitated for only a second. Then she quickly snatched the cape from his grasp and backpedaled away, wrapping herself with it like some shipwrecked refugee. It smelled like crisp snow and burning firewood, and it was just as alternatively cold and hot. In being so, the cape seemed to almost hiss and kiss against her skin—similar to Dan's general behavior toward her.

She found Dan's scent not unpleasant.

"I want that back, you know," he said, crossing his arms. "Temporary loan only, until you get clothes on. You'll leave my cape outside Tower 9 of the Ghost Shield for me to pick up later tonight."

Valerie paused, still a bit shocked. She wrapped herself in the cloak a bit tighter, in awe of its heavy softness and the way it moved like shadows about her. She'd never felt a material quite like this. She suddenly understood why Dan wore it.

"Why….why are you helping me like this?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

Dan raised a brow. "I have my reasons. Your attempts to fight me are vaguely entertaining, so I would hate to kill you just yet. And I don't want anyone else to see you, now that I know what you're hiding under there," he said, eyeing her form in appreciation and possessiveness. "I want to keep you all to myself."

"I'm _so_ not yours," Valerie snapped, eyes firing daggers at him.

"You're sure hugging my cape pretty close," he commented, smile lopsided. "It _is_ a part of me."

Valerie did not consider the concept that Dan's cloak was a natural extension of himself, and she froze, realizing that in some sick way, she'd wrapped herself with Dan. She nearly pulled it away from herself in disgust and fear. "Oh my God, you sick bastard!"

Words strangled in her mouth with too many emotions.

The powerful ghost simply laughed as Valerie tried to quickly adjust the cloak around her so it was less of a dress and more of a shield to block his view of her. "I promise it doesn't bite much," he said, amused at her struggle. "It's not actually sentient."

She paused for a second, eyes narrowed. "You're saying you can't…access it or anything?"

He nodded.

"You better be telling the truth," she said, fingers clenching the material in fear. "If this thing's watching me, then so help me I'll…"

Well, actually, she didn't know what she'd do. It was either get felt up by Dan's cape or fly back in total shame for everyone to see. She had few problems with telling the truth that her suit had ripped and that she had taken Dan's cloak to cover herself, but she really did not want everyone else (her father, stupid men like Dash, and stupid women like Paulina) to actually see the embarrassing reality of her ripped suit.

He smiled. "My cape doesn't tie into my senses. But that's a good idea for next time. I'll ready such a cape just in case you have future…wardrobe malfunctions." He smiled something lazy and full of desire. "And then I'll be able to feel every inch of you, no matter how far you are from me."

"I will set your cape on fire," she promised vehemently, "so you'll feel every inch of _that_." Then she realized the implications of what he'd suggested, and she stuttered in anger and embarrassment, "And I'm never letting this happen again."

He raised a brow. "Oh no?" he said, a cheeky smile twisting his handsome face. "I'm not sure you can make that promise. We tend to get a little…physical sometimes. In close combat, things happen." A new thought hit him, and his smile widened in appreciation. "Or maybe you'll keep growing."

Valerie's face blushed, and she grumbled under her breath—most likely profanities.

And for a short time, the two enemies stood awkwardly, waiting for the other to make a move. Valerie did not know whether to punch Dan in the face or to thank him for not being entirely evil, and Dan did not know whether to keep teasing Valerie until she cried in anger again, or to let her go.

It was always so confusing when his vision of their epic battles was interrupted with events that made him…compromise. His face twitched in irritation.

"Now go away," Dan waved her off, "before I change my mind and take my cape back for the hell of it."

Valerie did not question him. She nodded and called her jet sled to her. Then she jumped on and quickly sped away back to Amity Park, clinging to Dan's cape like a lifeline.

Dan watched the tendrils of his cape melt about the curves of her frame. A darkly amused smile softened the sharp lines of his face. Oh, he was never going to let her live her bad fortune down. Reveling in her horror was much better than killing her at her weakest moments. And now he knew exactly how to spiral her into a stuttering, beautiful mess. Just for fun, of course.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, Dan flew in invisible mode to Tower 9 of the Amity Park ghost shield. For a short time, he worried that perhaps Valerie would never give back his cape. She did seem to be rather fond of it after she discovered it wasn't alive. Maybe she'd hold it against him or use it to make a voodoo doll.<p>

But instead he found his cape neatly folded, a white note stuck inside. He picked it up off the ground and examined it. It didn't look like she'd cut any pieces out to make a voodoo doll, which was a good start. The fabric of the cape still smelled lightly of Valerie's scent—something of exotic flowers and warm sand. As Valerie was usually surrounded by metal and electricity, he'd forgotten at times that she was actually human and soft with appreciation for things other than death. It was jarring to see her as anything other than the Ghost Slayer—words like _beautiful_ and _desirable_ were not words he had associated with her until today.

He wanted to be bothered by the fact that he would smell her scent on his clothes for a day or so, but he was mostly bothered by the fact that her scent would disappear, leaving him alone with the scent of dying civilizations on the horizon.

What was this? Just hormones kicking in? Was he really not going to care that his manly and imposing cape smelled like _flowers_?

To distract himself from that dangerous line of thought, he unfolded the note, revealing Valerie's messy handwriting. _Thanks,_ it read. It looked scrawled in a hurry, and the first letter drooped a bit, as if she'd hesitated.

"No," he murmured, genuine amusement rising from within as he thought back to Valerie's horrified expression and her attempt to shield his eyes from her very feminine body. He'd have to work to make her undone again, for more reasons than one. "Thank _you_."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _This particular scenario is quickly referenced in a separate Dan/Valerie story of mine, __**Cancelling the Apocalypse.**__ If you haven't yet checked that story out, please do!_ _(Shameless plug, I know.) I couldn't resist actually writing this idea out since I first thought of it as a conversation piece in that story. _

_So, in direct conflict with the underlying morality of this storyline (which is that Dan respects certain boundaries between himself and Valerie), I'm working on an update to the Aftermath series (in which Dan respects absolutely nothing). I also need to upload a one-shot request and then an update to the Karma series. Maybe not necessarily in this exact order, haha. _

_Please review with your thoughts/comments, questions, or one-shot requests! Thanks!_


	17. Tis the Season to be Friends?

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Hey, all! So I've noticed in looking through fanart that there's not a lot of drawings of Dark Dan or Valerie that alter Butch Hartman's style of them (which to me is fun but sometimes awkward or too stiff). So I gave my hand at drawing them the way that I see them in my mind. Merry Christmas: _

**Dark Dan: **lightningstreak. deviantart . com**/ art/Dan-Phantom-2014-501063330  
><strong>

**Valerie (Long Hair): **lightningstreak. deviantart . com**/ art/Valerie-Gray-2014-Long-Hair-501076755**

**Valerie (Short Hair): **lightningstreak. deviantart **art/Valerie-Gray-2014-Short-Hair-501075679**

_ _You can also go to **lightningstreak. deviantart . com **(remove the spaces) and access these pictures from my main profile. _Let me know your thoughts! I will post a permanent link on my profile to these as well. It's possible in the future that I may try to draw more, as I'm very out of practice and would like to improve my skill. Please note this pictures are in no way professional, and I did not clean up the lines at all. _

_Thanks to Invader Johnny, Cookieplzandthnx, Above the Winter Moonlight, starwater09, ZoneRobotnik, SweetestChick, Xand'r Coldhearted, too enigmatic 2 b urs, Silverstone007, SerenaPotterSailorMoon, Zanza Flux, and plosek for reviewing!_

_**Shot 17 Summary:**__ Valerie wonders why, in ten years, Dan Phantom has never attacked Amity Park on Christmas. Rating: T, Genre: Friendship_

* * *

><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 17: Tis the Season to be…Friends?**

* * *

><p>Amity Park did not celebrate Christmas the first year of Phantom's attacks. It had been a dark time in which they feared for their lives far more than they feared receiving pointless gifts. It was strangely anticlimactic when Dan Phantom never showed his face.<p>

The second year, they tentatively celebrated. By the third, they decided to hell with it, and they celebrated anyway with what little they had. Since then, Valerie counted Christmas as the only time of the year that she could freely roam in her army fatigues without worrying about suiting up to fight Phantom.

Which was why everyone was looking at her strangely today.

As she locked her helmet on her head, checking over her gear, her father asked, "Dear, it's Christmas Eve. We know he's not going to attack. Why are you going out and _looking_ for trouble?"

"It's bothering me," she admitted. She began to online her Phantom Tracker on her arm. "I gotta know what he's doing."

"Who cares? It has nothing to do with us."

"You don't know that; he could be…regenerating or something. Or hibernating."

"It's going to snow," Damon pleaded. "It'll be cold, and you'll get sick."

"My suit has heat," she said. "I'll be fine, trust me."

"Baby girl, I don't wanna lose you on a day like this," he begged harder, his voice tired and breaking. "I don't want you to die."

She rolled her eyes to hide her discomfort at her father's concern. "It's been almost ten _years_. If Phantom could actually kill me, he would have done it by now." She checked the storage port of her jet sled and noted with satisfaction that it was full. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll be back by midnight to celebrate, okay?"

And then she shot off down the hall before Damon could interject. The aging father simply stared at the hall and shook his head with a sigh. She'd given him too many gray hairs to count, but there was never any stopping her. She was strangely similar to Dan Phantom in that way—headstrong, impossible, solitary. He feared that she found more enjoyment in fighting than in being with her own kind.

So he prayed that whatever had stopped Phantom from fighting in the past would keep Valerie safe, because the Amity Park Christmas celebration would not stop for her alone.

* * *

><p>Beyond the barrier, the world was white. The Wastelands spanned far in a cacophony of strange, snow-covered piles and shapes. Valerie could feel herself struggle to maintain a straight course from the occasional pull of the howling wind. Although Amity Park was decorated to the brim with Christmas lights and happy laughter echoing from every corner, everything was barren here in the lands that Dan Phantom had claimed.<p>

She glanced down at her tracker, puzzling for Phantoms' location. Usually, it was not difficult to find him. Either he was attacking the barrier, or she was flying about, using his prominent ecto-signature to track him.

"What the hell?" she muttered under her breath in consternation, hitting the tracker on her arm to make it work. Today, it was as if there was interference blocking every ecto-signature in the world. Phantom's signature was but a blip on the screen, which made her suspicious that perhaps it wasn't really him. Or that something was wrong.

Eventually, she tracked him past the section of the Wastelands that were once the suburbs of Amity Park. Her technology began to beep strong in her ear as an alarm that she was closing in on an ectoplasmic being, and her heart began to rise in anticipation and curiosity. What did a ghost who wanted world conquest do on Christmas Eve, anyway? Was his power really compromised?

Valerie half-expected to discover that there was some kind of magic in Christmas air that drained him of his powers.

Instead, she found him sitting on the edge of a rolling cliff that overlooked a lake. The dark edges of his cape hung to the side of him, disappearing into the snow. He looked no different than ever before. At least from a distance.

"You know," she called out, "I was expecting some kind of diabolical hibernation!" She flew down to him, just above eye level. "What the hell is this?"

But something was very off with him. Instead of immediately blurring into action, Dan simply…sat there with the irritated expression worthy of a sulking teenager. "Go away, Valerie," he demanded, red eyes never leaving the frozen lake. "I will not fight you today."

She raised her hands to show that she was without visible weapons. "I know that," she huffed, eyebrow raised beneath the visor of her helmet. "I just wanted to know _why_."

"So that you could use it against me?" he said irritably, looking away. "You have simply wasted your resources." He waved out at the vast nothingness surrounding them. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the only ghost who takes this day off." He glared at her. "Can you not tell that I don't want to be bothered?"

Valerie put her left hand on her hip and raised her right arm to showcase the minimal radar bleeps on her tracker. She looked exasperated with him. "I noticed that too. So for my Christmas present to myself, I'm gonna find out why so I can stop worrying about it. And you're going to tell me what I want to know."

One of his white eyebrows raised. "How thoughtful of me."

The ghost hunter simply floated above, arms crossed in expectation.

With a tired roll of his eyes, he looked back at her with complete honesty. "What you are witnessing is the Truce," he said stiffly. "All ghosts adhere to a truce on Christmas Eve. For twenty-four hours, we stop fighting to…celebrate. The alteration of my ecto-signature is simply the result from not broadcasting my power. It is customary for ghosts to do so on today only, as a sign of faith that we will not break the Truce."

She realized he looked oddly lonely and offbeat. The flickers of his hair were soft and slower than typical. His mouth was set in a too-tight line.

It was strange to think of the entire ghost race as having limited human emotions and truces. She thought Dan Phantom was perhaps the only one who did such things. "Why Christmas Eve?" she demanded. "When did the truce start?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," he said, the baritone of his voice tinged with derision. "It's tradition. It is law set forth by the Ghost Council."

"…So no matter what I do," Valerie said lightly, "you can't fight back?"

His nose scrunched, and his lip curled into a snarl. "Don't push your luck," he said. "You're not even a ghost. I could slice you in half without breaking the truce."

"So then you've _chosen_ to not fight me," she concluded, almost amused. "This that why you're all depressed and whiny?"

The ghost's shoulders tightened in frustration. He knew that Valerie was trying to gain information about a potential weakness. "I don't need a reason to do what I want. Go away."

But Valerie did not move. "You know you can't fool me, Phantom." The strange conditions of their rivalry made it that Valerie knew more about Dan than she did about herself. She had seen him exhibit sparks of humanity, which had made her consider more than once the possibility that she could perhaps talk him down from destroying everything. Maybe she could make him see the futility of destroying the world.

And maybe the ghost truce would give her a chance to learn about him more—to find out what was inspiring the strange depression in him, and then use it to further turn his mind around.

As she jumped off of her jet sled, she treaded carefully, for she knew that raising Phantom's ire too much would result in altercation—which neither wanted. She had not brought her heavier artillery, and she knew Phantom himself was compromised.

He watched her angrily. "I said to go away," he demanded. "Do you not understand me?" His fingers clenched, and a red glow began to pulse from his fingertips. "I will shoot you."

Valerie hopped onto one of the snow-covered rocks beside him and allowed her feet to loosely swing in the air. "To really hurt me," she said lightly, "you'd have to stop masking your signature. But then that would be against your truce now, wouldn't it?"

He began to eye her with growing hesitance and curiosity. It was rare for even their nonviolent encounters to begin without weapons. The thought left him a bit unsettled, so he tried to compensate. "I could still strangle you."

Valerie seemed entirely unaffected by his threats. She eyed him right back and asked point-blank, "So if this Christmas truce is an _all_-ghost celebration, why are you being all antisocial out here instead of partying with them?"

"Why the hell do you care?"

"Because it's my job to know your business." She crossed her arms in a haughty manner to hide her own curiosity. "If you don't tell me, I'll just capture one of your little ghost friends and force it out of them. Your choice. I know you're hiding something important."

His lip curled downward. "They're _not_ my friends, and if you must know, I just don't want to waste my time with those degenerates." He seethed a bit in more anger than Valerie was expecting, but it was not directed at her. Rather, his tone was defeated and strangled with multiple emotions.

She tilted her head with sudden clarity. "They just don't want you there, right?"

A flush crossed over his cheeks, and he turned his head away. "_I _don't want to be there," he said shortly. "This is my decision. I prefer solitude. I like it this way. And you're interrupting the silence."

Valerie was unconvinced. "Right," she said slowly, a sly smile raising on her face. "Because sitting around and staring at nothing is your favorite pastime."

He growled at her. He supposed he could tell her the truth, but then he would have been falling into another of her traps, in which she baited him for information. She was good at that, especially when she wasn't holding a gun.

In truth, it was not his decision to spend the day in solitude. It was ghost instinct to attend the Christmas truce, but the first year after he had transformed into his full-ghost self, everyone had avoided him with barely-repressed disgust and fear. It had felt like high school lunch all over again until he had physically assaulted Skulker for sneering at him. The messengers of the Ghost Council had then intervened with a declaration that he was thereby banned from any ghost festivities, and that the Council would prosecute him if he did not uphold the nonviolence clause of the truce, even in his exile.

He supposed it was revenge of sorts.

Valerie's hands raised suddenly, and he tensed as if ready to fight her. But she simply eyed him as she began to unbuckle her helmet. "Well," she said, "I guess if your power is really tied by a truce, then I can do this." And she pulled her helmet off and shook her ringlet hair free, sighing in relief. The cool air struck her face.

Dan's eyes widened a bit, watching Valerie lower her guard before him.

The snow had begun to fall from the sky again, lightly dusting into Valerie's hair as she pulled out her ponytail. "Finally," she breathed. "I can actually enjoy this." She leaned back into the snow much like a child would, sighing in satisfaction at the crunch around her ears. "You've no idea how long I've been wanting to just play in the snow."

Dan just looked confused. "Why aren't you back in Amity Park?" he retorted, eyebrow raised. "Would you not rather spend your time with family than irritating me with your presence?"

She folded her arms behind her head and stared up at the sky as the snowflakes kissed her face. "I'm not missing anything. Dad always makes speeches, people always get drunk, and we all pretend we've got more than we do." She huffed. "It's not like anyone really cares about me anyway."

Dan honed in on the strain of vulnerability in her voice. Perhaps he could learn something to use against her after all. "What do you mean, no one cares?"

She shifted a bit uncomfortably in the snow. "Well, I spend most of my life out here," she said slowly. "Fighting you. I don't have time to socialize and make friends. The holidays make me have to pretend to like people I don't know, which is way more of a nightmare than you are."

"…You mean," he concluded, eyes narrowing, "you're out here because you're avoiding socializing with other human beings?" He laughed, almost genuinely. Shades of depression began to lighten from his shoulders. "After all of your big talk that humanity is worth saving?"

She blushed a bit. "Hey, there's a difference between avoiding people and thinking they should die."

"I don't differentiate on nuances," he waved away her concern.

"That's not a nuance, Phantom. That's not even in the same category."

He snickered. "And yet, here you are. Begging for my presence instead of for your own kind."

"Shut up. You know you're bored too. Or I guess I could fly away and leave you here to sulk in the Wastelands by yourself."

He contemplated the thought for a second or two before simply falling back onto the snow beside her. It was not the closest he had ever been. It was not the first time they'd simply spoken instead of fought. "You do know me well," he admitted. "I suppose I would rather endure your company than have no one to insult. Although I find myself shocked that you have split ties to your_ precious _holiday traditions."

"Oh come on," she complained. "Didn't you ever get tired of the holidays before you died?"

For a second, it appeared that he was honestly mulling over her question. But then he seemed to remember something, and he growled. "You should change the subject. I want to kill people just thinking about that."

"I'm just curious about your pre-afterlife."

"I'd like to _forget_ it," he huffed. His voice was pointed and accusatory. "Hard to do when you keep asking about it all the time."

"But this explains so much about you. Maybe you just want world conquest and annihilation because you never had a good Christmas experience."

He swatted snow at her, and she narrowly avoided it by sitting up in a hurry. "That's a horrible deduction," he complained. "I am chaos. I had no beginning. I have no end."

She huffed. "…Yeah, you're just a hurt kid, like the rest of us."

He snapped up, eyes red with anger. "You will not compare me to anyone," he demanded, leaning closer to threaten the space between them. "I am not some sniveling human being to be psychoanalyzed."

"But you _were._"

Dan fell silent after that, angered. His presence grew sullen and more withdrawn. He laid back down beside her and muttered, "As if you would know."

Valerie realized that this psychological warfare of hers was working—Dan was compromising. But she feared that focusing on him too much would make him grow more irritated with her. He'd fly off or clam up. So she switched tactics again.

It was always a dance with him, honestly.

She laid down as well and clasped her hands together over her stomach, staring out at the darkening clouds above. "You know," she said in mild frustration, "you're not the only person with problems. Growing up, I had nothing. My mom and dad scraped pennies to put food on the table, so I'd get apples and homemade candy for Christmas. And I'd be so happy, until I'd go back to school."

Dan's eyes slid back to her, watching in curiosity.

Valerie knew she had his attention. She could feel his eyes were trained on her, so she tried to focus on the snowflakes falling on her face. "All the other kids would have computers and scooters and expensive toys," she said. An unconscious a twinge of jealousy worked its away deep into her voice. "And they'd look at me and laugh." She closed her eyes for a second, and she modulated her voice into something mocking. "You only got candy? What, your daddy don't love you? Santa forget about you? What kind of a dumb present is an apple?"

She sighed. "Here I was thinking I had the world, and then everyone told me I'd been duped. Made me feel real good. Screwed me up for years."

He sat up on his elbows, eyeing her hard. "In what way?" he demanded.

She craned her neck a bit to face him. "I thought that the more shit I had like everybody else, the more important I was. I didn't wake up until you started destroying everything." She bit her lip. "I realized then that I'd been pretty stupid. I'd let people turn me into something…not good."

She hardened her gaze at him and swatted snow back into his face. He sputtered in surprise, jerking back. A twitch of a smile appeared on her face. "So don't tell me that your bad Christmas experiences didn't mess you up too."

"Oh, and a good experience is gonna make me stop wanting to kill people?" he drawled, irritated at the snowflakes still in his hair. He tried to shake them out. "That's asinine."

She shrugged. "You're the one sulking cause not even your own kind wants you at their party."

He swallowed hard. "Well, I didn't want to mingle in their inferior presence anyway," he retorted, but his voice was a bit strangled. "It's better this way."

Valerie gave a slight nod. "At least this way I can keep an eye on you instead of wondering where you've gone off to." She mocked, "I get worried when you don't call, you know."

And Dan, for the first Christmas Eve in his entire existence, felt something warm swell in his heart. It was a strange feeling to know that Valerie had thought of him every day he had not confronted her. Even if it were born from worry and hatred, Valerie had _thought_ of him.

A bit flustered that Valerie was teasing him instead of vice versa, he looked away from her. He did not want to admit how much he suddenly wanted her to stay, so he tried to push away the thought. "You shouldn't be here," he said, tilting his chin towards Amity Park. "You should go…celebrate your shitty holiday."

"I _am_ celebrating my shitty holiday," she retorted, eyebrow raised in amusement. "Right about now, Dad would just be finishing up his speech. We all usually share candy and stuff. Which reminds me—"

She leaned over to her jet sled and pushed a button on the side. From the storage unit (where she usually hid her snacks), she pulled out a small bag of what looked to be a mix of chocolates, pretzels, and assorted sweets.

Dan tentatively eyed the small bag of sugary trail mix, wondering what in the world it was doing in his life.

"It's a tradition," she explained. "You kind of destroyed our economy, so all we got is candy—you know, stuff we can make ourselves." She popped open the bag and grabbed a few of the sweets on top. "Kind of like old times for me."

"How nice that I unintentionally provided you with a blast from your past," he said, voice dry.

She shoved the bag at him. "But I gotta spread the calories out, and everyone in Amity Park's got enough candy to sink a ship. So take one for the team and help me eat this."

A twitch of a smile raised on his thin lips, even though he was desperately attempting to hide it. "Aww, are you begging me to save you from confectionary treats?"

"This isn't me begging," she said flatly, even though her eyes glinted. "This is me actually trying to kill you with candy."

"…Then I approve of your tactics," he said simply. He grabbed a few of the red-hot candies from the top of the candy pile. "It's quite sinister and underhanded, and I feel myself giving way to the temptation."

"Yeah, I figured you'd appreciate it."

He bit down on the small red candies, satisfied at the cinnamon taste and the way it seemed to warm his mouth. "So you were_ planning_ on coercing me to death with sweets?"

Valerie shrugged, "I actually meant to drive a stake of holly through your heart, in full Christmas spirit. This stuff was just supposed to be my celebration snack, but you know how life goes."

He chewed on the red-hot, slightly concerned. "…Sometimes, I really can't tell if you're being serious or not."

"I get it from you," she retorted.

Genuine delight rose on his face. "On second thought," he hummed merrily, "I think you _weren't_ being serious. Stakes work only on vampires and Norse gods, especially ones of holly."

"Wanna find out for sure?"

"…Not today, no."

"Maybe later?"

"If it's on someone other than me, yes."

And so the two enemies sat shoulder to shoulder on the ruins of a suburb, munching on Christmas candy, watching the world sigh into sleep. Snowflakes drifted onto them as they rested in silence. Something about their heightened camaraderie carried with it a sacred air that neither dared to break.

Dan realized how natural it was for him to be comfortable around Valerie—to not question her presence. He had not felt such rightness within the world for years, and he craved it. The simple act of eating candy from a bag between them was something so human, it was strange for him to reconcile it with himself. And yet it was…nice.

It was nice.

"Hey, why are you hogging all the red-hots?" Valerie complained suddenly, digging through the bag to find her favorite candies, most of which had already disappeared into Dan's mouth. "Seriously dude, sharing is caring."

He smiled innocently. "I thought you were attempting to kill me only. Are you instead trying for a homicide-suicide through your laced candy?"

She found one red-hot candy remaining, and she grabbed onto it. "You would just love that, wouldn't you," she muttered.

"I do enjoy good deaths," he said. He chose the pretzels as his next victim. "It would be quasi-Shakespearean for us to both die in your attempt to snuff my existence on a corporate holiday."

"Except we're not Romeo and Juliet," Valerie pointed out. "And I can understand everything we're saying."

His eyes crinkled a bit in amusement. "Are you admitting to inferior reading skills?"

"You saying you can actually understand that shit?"

"It's elementary, Watson," he said dramatically, waving a pretzel stick into the real. "It's not at all that difficult; it's just a bunch of middle English innuendoes mixed with death and violence."

The woman groaned in disgust. "But I don't care about middle English innuendoes _or_ Shakespeare stuff."

He leaned in. "Not even about the beast with two backs?" he wondered mildly. "I found that one quite engaging. I could show you sometime what it means."

Valerie flushed a bit, more aware of the little space between them. "I already know what that one means, thanks," she said flatly.

"Well, anytime you want to experience it," he shrugged, lips stretching wide with a lazy smile, "you know where to find me."

The two fell into silence after that, Dan's offer hanging off the edges of their open world. Valerie thought to banter against it, but she knew it would only entice him to suggest more explicit innuendoes, which would make her uncomfortable with being so close to him. He had no concept of knowing when something was too much.

Eventually, they worked their way through the whole bag of candy, during which Valerie discovered that Phantom held quite an affinity for everything that she did. Or perhaps he was simply trying to irritate her by eating all of her favorite candies—in which case it was working. She growled at him, but he just smiled cheekily back at her. "Hey, _you're_ the one who wanted my help," he reminded her, popping a chocolate square into his mouth with a hum of delight.

Before she could retort, a shiver suddenly rocked through her. The snow had begun to melt through her hair and siphon down into the cracks of her suit. Her suit's heating system was struggling to compensate for her choice to go helmetless. She began to shiver again from the cold, her nose and cheeks flushed. "Damn, did the temperature drop or something?"

"No, you're just a weak human," he piped up, eyeing her over as he savored the last bit of chocolate in his mouth. "You should have kept the helmet on."

She glared at him, "I get tired of being cooped up in a tin can, is that so bad?" She stood up from the ledge, dusting snow off of her limbs. "Looks like time's up, anyway. It's getting dark."

Dan's expression darkened with disappointment. "…You're going to leave?"

"I can't afford to get sick over this," she said. "Especially if we're gonna fight tomorrow. And I did promise my dad I'd be back soon; you know how family is."

He supposed he did. It made his non-beating heart hurt to think about it, and the reality that he would be alone again—that this was all too temporary—sunk deep into him. Dan bit into the last pretzel mindlessly, his red eyes distant. "I will make a deal with you, then," he said. "From this year forth, you will spend every Christmas Eve with me as proof to the Ghost Council that I have maintained the Truce. In return, I will offer you…from now until after New Year's Day to rest."

She paused for a second, her teal eyes widening. "…What?"

"You heard what I said." His voice was firm, eyes honest if not a bit haughty. "This is my only deal. Take it or leave it."

Valerie gaped at him for a second. "Damn, I'll take it."

"Good." He nodded firmly, his fangs crunching down on the pretzel in his mouth. He reveled in her shock, satisfied that he could still be unpredictable from time to time.

She gave him a weird look that was searching but in no way negative. "You know, Phantom," she said as she locked her helmet back into place. "You're really not half bad when you're not destroying everything. You should be like this more often."

He raised a brow sharply, surprised at the backhanded compliment. Something deep within his chest moved. Like a heartbeat.

Valerie blushed a bit and jumped onto jet sled. "Well, I guess…Merry Christmas," she said. "I'll kill you later." And then she blasted off towards the distant dome of Amity Park, disappearing into the white snowfall.

The snow felt colder without her, but the memory of her was warm in his mind. He latched onto it, unable to hide the smile that graced his thin lips. "Kill you later," he whispered to her in amusement.

Whether he had intended it or not, the infamous Dan Phantom had a Christmas tradition now. And it had everything to do with Valerie Gray, which was wonderful and scandalous and terrifying at the same time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Hey, everyone! Merry early Christmas/happy holidays! To celebrate the spirit of the season, I wrote this one-shot. I wanted to explore Dan's possible experiences with a Christmas truce, as well as what Valerie's reaction would be to a truce-locked Phantom. It ended up being a bit more heartfelt than I intended, but I tried to soften it with some of their more typical banter._

_Anyways, updates to both Karma and the Aftermath miniseries are next, per your request! _

_Please leave your thoughts, comments, and one-shot requests in a review! Thanks!_


	18. Karma Part 4

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Cookieplzandthnx, Above the Winter Moonlight, ZoneRobotnik, too enigmatic 2 b urs, Invader Johnny, Guest, MsFrizzle, eraso, doeaks, Silverstone007, Plosek, aiksi, Zanza Flux, Guest, Domination of the World, and Bree for reviewing last time! As always, I really appreciate you guys and those of you who continuously come back for more chapters. :) _

_Special thanks to the anonymous Guest who reviewed nearly every single chapter since I last updated! Whoever you are, thank you! Also, several people requested that an update to Aftermath be next; I will therefore update this collection with Aftermath Part 5 next. _

_**Overall Miniseries Summary for Karma**__: Dan challenges Pariah Dark for the position of Ghost King and loses badly. As a result, Pariah Dark rips out Dan's power core, cuts out his tongue, and tortures him to make him an example for other enemies. He then throws a broken Dan to the resistance before claiming the human world as part of his empire. Valerie struggles with what to do regarding their strange prisoner and how to stop Pariah Dark before he destroys them all. Hurt!Dan. _

_**Summary Karma Part 4**__: Dan begins to heal from the unsanctioned beating the Resistance gave him. Valerie starts to realize just how emotionally invested she's become in her prisoner. Hurt!Dan._

* * *

><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 18: Karma Part 4**

* * *

><p>As Dan Phantom slept off the injuries Dash had carved into his skin, Kwan kept a close eye on the ghost's vitals. The IV appeared to be working well—what could have been a week of healing for a human had already worked its magic on the mending of Phantom's bones. The swelling of his arms and fingers had faded back into normal lines. The bruises that stormed down his face in ugly splotches had darkened in color, a sign that his body had already begun to mop up the blood that had festered under his skin. The cuts around one eye had begun to stitch up.<p>

For as broken as he appeared, he was truly resilient. Kwan almost marveled at him.

So the medical student took blood samples from one of Dan's limp arms, curious to understand more about his ghost physiology. Dan Phantom appeared far more human-like than he had imagined. He even appeared to have the same internal organs, but with some minor adjustments regarding the use of ectoplasm and placement of a power core. It made Kwan wonder to what extent ghosts truly were different than humans. Perhaps there was very little difference.

As Kwan capped the vials of Dan's blood, he heard a soft knock at the door. Then a familiar figure in red trudged in.

"Valerie," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

The young commander looked worn and tired. "I just got back from Dad's," she said. "We interrogated Dash. It was a nightmare."

The med student puzzled, "Why interrogate Dash? He confessed to everything already, didn't he?"

With a sigh, Valerie stole the chair to the right of Dan's bed. "Yeah, but he tried to turn Dad against me. He told Dad I was hand-feeding Phantom like a lost puppy before I could explain my side." She leaned her elbows on the bed, teal eyes fearful. "But I was _alone_ that whole time. Vlad was the only one who knew, and he put me up to it after he failed to make Phantom eat. When I asked Dash for more info, he only told me, 'In this place, someone's always watching.'" She groaned, hiding her face to keep Kwan from seeing her rising blush of embarrassment and anger. "He had someone spying on me; that's how he knew when Phantom was alone and when to strike."

"You're not…in trouble, are you?"

"No," Valerie huffed, "but now Dad's worried I'm getting attached to a war criminal, and I've got a freakin' spy to worry about." She suddenly looked at Kwan, eyes hardening. "It's not you, is it? This wasn't all some weird mad scientist ploy to experiment on Phantom, was it?"

The med student's eyes widened, hands pausing on the vials of Phantom's blood. "Uh. I like understanding things. But that's just creepy, Val."

Then Valerie bit her lip, looking away. "You're right; it couldn't have been you," she grumbled. "You can't lie worth a damn." She hit her fist on the edge of the bed. "But how did Dash _know_? And how did he even get a mob into the cellar? I could have sworn I was alone. I could have sworn I locked the cellar with high security protocols."

Kwan began to grow concerned. "Val," he said slowly, "why does it even matter? Phantom's probably going to be okay. We've stabilized him."

She looked up. For a time, she appeared haunted. "It's what they did that matters," she whispered. For the first time since she entered the room, she looked straight at the sleeping Dan Phantom on the bed. Although most of him was covered by sheets, she could spy the heavy bandages wrapped around his bare torso. His face was splotched with dark bruises. She could see the scabs from sharp pipes down his blue shoulders. "Look at him. Our _friends _did this. Phantom might not even have a brain left."

"He appears very capable of regenerating; he may suffer from some amnesia regarding the actual event itself." Kwan shrugged. "But that's probably for the best."

As Valerie began to open her mouth to reply, she realized that one of Dan's hands and fingers were twitching. Her eyes widened, thinking that her rising voice had perhaps alerted Dan to something. The various machines to which Phantom was hooked up began to beep. "…Speak of the devil; why is his hand twitching?"

Kwan set down the vials. "It's a sign of waking up," he said. He grabbed a hold of his stethoscope. "He could be very disoriented; maybe you should step back."

Valerie gave him a dry look. "If I can handle him actively killing me, I can probably handle him now."

The two cautiously leaned over beside the bed and waited as the beeping of the machines rose with an increased heartbeat. Valerie stood apprehensively, trying to gauge if there was anything left of her investment in Phantom.

Slowly, the ghost's face twitched in pain, and his red eyes cracked open. For one wild moment, no recognition or personality registered in his half-lidded gaze. Valerie leaned over the bed, searching him with increasing concern. "…Phantom? You in there?"

Then his entire body stiffened, and he began to tremble, eyes widening in awareness of great pain. A strangled moan escaped from his ruined mouth, and the sharp agony only heightened the shuddering breaths that shook him. He tried to move himself up. His broken and ravaged body struggled against him.

Valerie tried to talk him down. "Hey, don't move yet," she said, voice rough. But Phantom seemed entirely thoughtless but for his pain.

Kwan began to worry. "His stats are too high. We need to calm him down now before he hurts himself." He began looking for an anesthetic of sorts, but the resistance was already low, and he doubted he'd get approval to use more on Phantom. He grimaced.

Meanwhile, Dan's eyes swiveled wildly around the room without landing on any particular item. His once-broken hands reached out, blindly searching. The fragile scabs down his shoulders cracked open. He did not seem to realize it, nor did his eyes seem to be actively comprehending sight.

A strange panic overcame Valerie. "Shit. Can he not see anything?" she said. "Kwan, he's not focusing. Like, there's just…nothing."

Kwan turned around, grabbing a small light from his pockets. "Let me see." He looked a bit disturbed by the strange dilation in Dan's eyes as he shined the small light against them. He paused for a second, expression puzzling with thought. "It could just be an effect from the concussive force to that area." He turned the light off, and Dan blinked in fright. "I think he's probably able to see blurs and shapes right now, but nothing definite."

As she leaned over in morbid curiosity, one of Dan's shaking hands bumped against her arm. Before she could pull away, his hand deadlocked onto her arm. She nearly winced at the pressure, hiding it beneath a look of displeasure. "Okay, not cool."

Kwan swallowed hard in panic. "Uh, maybe I've got straps around here somewhere—hold on."

"Take your time," Valerie muttered with a falsely light voice, grimacing.

His fingers had dug deep into the material of her battle suit, and Dan knew that special fabric almost on an instinctive level. Through his muffled hearing, he could hear her voice too, which seemed to be coming from the same direction as the arm he was currently holding onto for dear life. He tried to reach out to her with his other hand, pushing through the pain to touch her.

The Red Hunter's resolve seemed to cave. "Dammit, Phantom," she whispered, realizing he was not mindlessly trying to hurt her, but simply searching for affirmation of some kind. She flickered a glance up at Kwan before she decided to hell with it, and she responded to Dan's silent plea by sitting down on the chair beside his bed. "Why you gotta be so difficult?"

And as Kwan turned around with the Velcro straps for unruly patients, he saw that Valerie had leaned forward and had placed her hand against the side of Dan's face. The ghost had grabbed hard onto her other arm, his fingers shaking as they dug deep. The strange tantrum of fear from Phantom had softened, his muffled groans melting away into gasping breaths.

"You feel me?" Valerie asked, a strangled pattern in her voice. "Can you hear me?"

Phantom's blind eyes tried to swivel her way. Something in his face was so strangely human and longing that Kwan could say nothing as he watched the ghost react to Valerie's touch. It was as if Valerie were flooding life back into Phantom, and he was soaking it up. Great relief overcame the ghost as he closed his weary eyes. Though pain still shook his body, he seemed to focus on the heat of Valerie's hand upon his face. He leaned into her touch.

Kwan's open gaping didn't go unnoticed. The Velcro straps in his hands dropped from his loose fingers onto the floor.

Valerie looked up. "Do _not _tell anyone about this," she demanded to Kwan, voice low. "Got it?"

The med student blinked. Then, slowly, he nodded, and he leaned against the counter behind him. "Sure. But…why does he react like this to _you_?"

Phantom had grown nearly silent at her confirmed touch, almost as a sign of total submission, and Valerie felt uncomfortable with it in the sight of Kwan. Her face grew heated. "I dunno. He knows I'm not going to hurt him. He knows me better than anyone else."

"So, he trusts you?"

She realized that she had begun to stroke the matted strands of hair at Dan's temple, and she snatched her hand away, as if fearful that he had subconsciously bewitched her. "I guess," Valerie whispered.

The instant that Valerie broke away, the ghost seemed to grow more agitated. His blind eyes opened, and he tried to focus on her, triangulating her voice with the blurred shape he could barely manage to see.

"You're fine, okay?" Valerie told him, voice strangled with odd patterns. Kwan watched on in interest. "I'm here. Just—go back to sleep for now. You need to conserve energy."

Though he seemed only half-way cognizant and hardly self-aware, Phantom accepted her order, if not with great confusion. He still shuddered with pain, but he shut his eyes and forced his breath to even out. Twitches of pain still crossed his face.

Eventually, he began to relax again, pure exhaustion slacking through his limbs. Valerie did not dare to move until she knew that he had fallen back into unconsciousness. Then she leaned back on the chair, crossing her arms to hide the shake in her hands. "Yeah," she said gruffly to Kwan, "don't get used to this. Once he starts healing up, he'll probably cop an attitude and go back to being a total bastard."

But the ghost slayer did not even convince herself, as she knew that Phantom had been significantly altered before his beating. She did not know what was truly left of him now.

* * *

><p>As Phantom fell back into deep sleep, his dreams were but fragments of past pain.<p>

.

_His back slammed into the wall, and he cried out as he fell hard onto the dirty, stone floor. _

_ "I do not understand," Pariah Dark said, voice rumbling the ground. "I have removed your ability to produce power, and yet still you disobey me." _

_ Dan curled up on himself on the cold floor, hands wrapping about his tender wound. His face was streaked with tears of pain. "F-fuck you," he breathed. His voice was harsh with agony. The residual energy in his ecto-blood had been enough to clot his wound and minimally heal it, but with every passing hour, his remaining power was fading out. He knew he needed immediate access to an energy source to regenerate. He just had to survive until then. _

_ The Ghost King grumped. "Perhaps it is not only strength in body from which you draw your spirit." He leaned down to eye the smaller ghost trembling on the floor. _

_ "Y-you," Dan whispered, voice cracking in pain, "have n-no idea what I'm capable of." He felt nauseated as he tried to maintain his pride before his tormentor. _

_ "I know your limitations; __**you**__ are the one who does not." The Ghost King mused, staring at him in dark calculation. "Even in your position, you think that silver tongue of yours can save you, don't you, boy? Perhaps…I must also remove that from you as well." _

_ With no warning, Pariah Dark slammed Dan's head against the wall, and the younger ghost fell limp, dazed in a crumple, his poorly healed scab over his side cracking open. As he lay on the floor, gasping, his shaking hands moved to cover his wound. _

_ In the blur of pain, he felt large, thick fingers drag down his jaw and jam his mouth open. A glowing knife appeared at his lips. Fear overwhelmed him. _

_And then Pariah cut deep. _

_._

_ Later, Pariah Dark threw Dan's convulsing body onto the floor of the great hall. Several ghosts stopped in fright. Strangled noises, like muffled, gurgling screams, tore from Phantom. _

_ The King sat upon his throne. "I show no mercy to my enemies," he said carelessly. _

_ Dan forced himself to his hands and knees, crying and dazed. Blood ran from his lips down his chin and bare chest to mix with the seeping blood from his power-core wound. His eyes were feverish and unfocused. The pride in his strong body had begun to falter. _

_ For a time, none of the other ghosts said or moved. They all stared at Dan Phantom as one would an explosion. They felt shock and surprise at seeing his trembling body bleed out on Pariah Dark's throne room floor. His proud jumpsuit was gone; his hair but matted locks. His bare skin bore the testimony of beatings. They watched Dan cry and were startled at how distorted it sounded with his cut-out tongue. _

_ And then they laughed. _

_ They laughed so hard that their laughs echoed everywhere, bouncing off the walls, searing deep into Dan's half-spent mind. He looked up in a daze, staring for any face with which to ally himself. But all were hardened against him, mindless in their joy of his destruction._

_ To his horror, they began to surround him. A few shoved him about happily, watching the crippled ghost curl in on himself to protect his injuries. The others stood and watched. _

_ "Hahaha!" one cried. "Do you feel it?! His powers—it's gone! He's like a…human now!" _

_ They stared at the wide wound carved into Dan's side. A few kicked him to the floor and forced him to bear the naked wound to their eyes. Their inhale of his crippling injury was unending, their interest not unlike a scientist watching a mouse die. _

_ "Ooh, look at it," another breathed. "The King took everything!" _

_ Dan's eyes squeezed shut, and tears streamed harder down his face. He could barely focus beyond the pain and agony of his ruined body. _

_ "Aww, look we're making him cry!" _

"_Well, you know what they say about ghosts with no power core," one of female ghosts giggled._

_ "Why doesn't he speak up?" called out. "Come on, silvertongue! Dazzle us with fear!" _

_ "Oh, but wait; he doesn't have a tongue anymore!" _

_ A strangled moan escaped from his lips as he forced himself back to his hands and knees. The weight of his own body sparked pain everywhere. His limbs shook. Blood from his ruined mouth dripped onto the expensive tiles beneath him. _

_ Pariah Dark frowned. "He is infecting my castle with his filth. Make him clean it up." _

_ They laughed again and obeyed their King's order. A ghost courtier grabbed a scrubbing brush and bucket from one of the skeleton servants working along the front of the throne room. The courtier laughed manically as he flew back. _

_ Dan breathed in the chance to recalibrate himself as the attention momentarily moved away from him. But time moved too fast, and before he knew it, cold, dirty water crashed over him, stinging deep into his wounds and mouth. His gurgling gasps of pain made the crowds laugh. They threw the cleaning brush and bucket at his head. And slowly, the last line of pride extinguished from his body as he collapsed. _

_ Pariah Dark and all the ghosts delighted in the way Dan crumpled in on himself, his body trembling with shuddering sobs. _

_ The mutilated ghost tried to collect his thoughts. He just needed to survive. He just need to survive…_

_._

Phantom re-awoke several hours later. The IV in his wrist vein had sustained him with more energy, even though he remained in great pain. He grimaced at the stinging of his nerves.

"—antom?" called out a female voice. It was a bit raspy and familiar, uncertain. "Come on, you trying to wake up or not?"

Painful light and blurry shapes came into focus, and he found himself staring up at Valerie.

She looked irritated and worried. She snapped her fingers above his head, and he almost flinched at the sound. "You hear that okay?" she asked. Slowly, he nodded, confused. "And can you see me?"

His eyes still looked a bit dilated, but he nodded again. Understanding began to waver into his mind. She was testing him.

"And you know me, right? You know who I am still?"

His pale and crackled lips twitched a bit, as if he would speak. Then he remembered the pained, empty space of his mouth. He nodded again with a bit more depression. More and more came back to him.

He did not remember exactly how he ended up in an infirmary, or how he had sustained such extensive injuries after beginning to heal from Pariah Dark—there was pain, a flash of something metal, a blurry sight of many dark combat boots—but he did remember that Valerie had previously warned him she would double-check his written information about Pariah Dark's location and strongholds. Perhaps he'd been mistaken. Perhaps they discovered he was wrong about something, even though he could have sworn it was right.

He turned his face away to hide his pain and confusion, but it only made the harsh, fluorescent lights shine on the dark bruises upon his face. There could be only one reason for a beating—he had failed her. His information had been wrong somehow. And as his new master, she exacted punishment.

At least she was still willing to offer him rest.

Valerie grimaced at the sight of Phantom as his will left him again, leaving hardly more than a reactive shell. She worried that perhaps the worst was true—that this awakening Phantom would be less able or willing to help her. "Hey, space cadet—come on." Valerie looked pained. "Look at me. Do you remember what happened to you?"

He slowly nodded. He knew enough.

"You remember why?"

He stared up at her, his eyes so vulnerable and pained that Valerie could barely stand to hold his gaze. She was learning to read the finite changes in his body language, the way his eyes were pointed at her, and she realized what he was thinking. Incredulity overcame her. "What, you think_ I_ did this to you?"

He blinked in confusion, the pain growing deeper. Did she want him to nod and beg her for mercy? Was this a test of his loyalty to her will?

She sat back and eyed him hard, pressing her lips together. "This wasn't me," she retorted. "Although I think you deserved a good knock in the head, I didn't order this. It was a group of people who were drunk and knew you'd be an easy target. They're all under probation right now for what they did."

Phantom stared at her. He tried to search the fragments of his memories again. He could remember Valerie's voice in the silence. He began to doubt himself and his few memories. Perhaps she hadn't beaten him.

"I didn't come here to hurt you," Valerie said shortly. "And no one else will either, I've made sure of it."

He turned his head away, as to say, _Yeah, right_. He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled a shaky breath, realizing that even though Valerie had perhaps not done this to him, it in no way guaranteed that she didn't enjoy seeing him beaten by others. He deserved it, he knew. For everything he had done, and for everything he still was.

Valerie pressed her lips together. "You have to understand everyone here is messed up," she said. "Mostly because of you. You can't blame us for wanting revenge."

His face tightened, but he still did not turn to look at her.

"Do you know how many of my friends and family you've maimed or killed?" she asked, voice low with a strange emotion. It was strange mix between frustration and depression. "Do you understand what you've done? Do you remember it?"

He did not respond, instead choosing to focus on a wall. His passiveness irritated her.

"Phantom, I asked you a question. Answer it now."

Phantom nodded once, hesitant.

"And do you regret any of it? At all?"

He blinked. The deaths his former self had inflicted—before Pariah showed him who was truly king—were abstract to him. Unlike Valerie, he did not know them, and so he could not feel regret or mourn their death. They were just faces waiting to die anyways. He supposed they were not his lives to take—he was not the Ghost King, after all.

Dan tentatively shook his head no to Valerie's question, because he knew that valuing life did not stop how the world worked. All things died, even without him. He simply ensured those people's quick and painless deaths.

Valerie's expression hardened against him, thinking that he was still reveling in their death, and she turned to look away. "I should have guessed as much," she muttered. "Just cause you look harmless doesn't mean you really are." She pulled away from his bed.

Dan's face darkened a bit in frustration and pain at the loss of her presence. He wanted to tell her of his thoughts, but words caught on the ruined edges of his tongue. A soft huff slipped between his lips as he watched her grow more and more disappointed with him. He could not afford for her to abandon him. He needed her. He wondered quickly if the pain would be worth trying to get off the bed to bow to her on his hands and knees.

But in the end Valerie still sighed and chose not to interrogate or berate him further. She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache come on. Dammit, she wasn't dealing with a child or simpleton. This Dan Phantom was still the ashes of an evil being who had almost achieved world conquest. How could she assume that he would automatically become some suffering saint and renounce his old ways?

She looked back at him, feeling as if there was something greater at risk between them than just the sanctity of their deal for information. This was the ghost who had killed her friends and destroyed her life. A part of him still existed within this broken Phantom. But no matter his views on his past, his recent experiences made him…compliant. He looked upon her with trust. He wanted her approval.

Valerie could further tip the scales in her favor if she played her cards right.

She blew a few ringlet curls out of her face, trying to measure up her prisoner. Eventually, she managed to swallow her pride. "Now come on," she said. She tentatively propped her arm on the edge of his bed. "Squeeze my hand so I know if you're strong enough to write. We need to talk soon."

He gave her a weary look, an unexpected fear leaking into his red eyes. So Valerie wanted to maintain their deal, which was good. But he worried that perhaps his healing bones would not allow him to write—and then Valerie would have to punish him because he was failing their deal and then he would certainly be unable to heal, and then she would kick him out or kill him and—

"—Don't hurt yourself," Valerie cut in, voice dry. She could see him spiraling again. "Just…try, okay?"

He nodded tentatively. His shaking fingers reached for hers, and his cold, bruise-mottled skin felt like ice against hers. Though his hand was by far larger than hers, and the fingers long and tapering, Valerie felt little strength behind them. Without terror motivating him, his will was weak. His hand shook. He grimaced, forcing his mended fingers to squeeze together.

In return, she squeezed her hand around his, and he stared down at their intertwined fingers. Valerie, always the fiery one, had warm and calloused hands. He could almost feel the hot blood raging through her veins and the heartbeat that charged her whole life. He craved it, and he was in awe that she would willingly share something so valuable.

She allowed him to hold her hand for some time. Something about the action was so simple, so human at an instinctive level, that Dan could not understand why the warmth seemed to travel down his arm and through his entire body. He wondered if this was what life was supposed to feel like.

Perhaps, he wondered, he desired such warmth because her touch was unwarranted? That holding hands was a sign of care between friends and family and lovers? That, for some reason, she thought he deserved this despite her disappointment in him?

Valerie stared at him, her eyes unreadable. "You should know that I don't like you," she said, point-blank. "When I look at your face, I see the monster that's destroyed my life. I still see him in you."

He blinked, confused. He glanced down at their hands again.

"But I know that's not all you are."

Unspoken words passed between them as he stared at her, and she back at him with determination. His bruised face still shined with tear tracks that made him look less the shade of a murderer and more the soul of a broken child.

He did not dare to imagine Valerie as a friend, for that meant they were equals, and Pariah Dark taught him that he was lower than dirt and deserving of nothing. But he wanted to believe at least that Valerie saw some kind of value in him. She was letting him hold her hand—or really, she was holding his, as his strength had long worn out, but he was begging her to not let go. And for some reason, she kept holding on. That had to count for something.

Eventually, Valerie's own arm tired out. She did let go, and he felt the ice of the air around him return like an oppressive cloak. His hand fell over his stomach, where he tiredly allowed it to rest.

She swallowed hard. "Now listen up, cause I'm only going to say this once. You're my prisoner, and I should have known the minute that group went down to your cell. You have my word that I won't let them pull that kind of shit against you again. " She bit her lip, then grew a bit hesitant. "I'm…sorry that I failed to protect you."

And she realized she truly meant it, still in shock that her own people could be just as vindictive as Dan himself. Perhaps if he were some unruly and wicked prisoner, she could justify it. But she'd seen a side of him that made him more human than human. Now, it was hard to see him as just another.

Dan's squeezed his eyes shut. He looked caught between disagreeing with her and desperately latching on for the hope in her words. Why would she tell him it was wrong to be punished for his wrong-doings? What did this mean?

He deserved it…right?

.

_Pariah Dark's voice rang. "You insolent boy. You think yourself valuable? You believe yourself to be worthy of staring me in the eye?" _

.

Valerie's warm fingers lightly turned his chin back. "Hey, don't look away from me. I'm trying to talk to you."

Dan looked up at her, tentatively. Again, he found himself surprised at the gentleness with which she touched him. Were she like Pariah Dark, she probably would've dragged him off the bed by his hair simply to test if he were listening. But she wasn't Pariah Dark. And she wanted him to look at her. And she was _apologizing_ to him.

Valerie realized Dan was staring up at her in sudden gratefulness. "Don't look at me like I'm doing you a favor," she commanded, feeling uneasy. "This is basic law. The only time it's legal to kill someone is in the act of war or defense—and you weren't attacking anyone. Even though they didn't kill you, they almost did, and that's illegal too. It was wrong what they did."

He tried to hide his failing battle, but his lips quivered. He could not remember a time when someone had _cared_ to enforce law for his benefit. It was a painful and raw feeling that tore at yearnings deep beneath his skin and burned his eyes. All he could see were the Ghost King and his courtiers, using his pain for court entertainment.

Valerie swallowed hard, afraid of her own reactions to his as she watched the streaks of tears that ran down his bruised and battered face. That he would respond like this just from an apology…The woman felt uncomfortable with the forward display of emotion. "Yeah, yeah," she said gruffly, looking away to hide vulnerability in her own eyes. "This isn't personal, you know. I'm just doing this because you're my responsibility, and I still need info from you."

He nodded, but it was halted with pain. His breath hitched a bit.

.

_"Worthless! You are less valuable than even the dirt of the Human World. You deserve nothing but my disgust. Without your tongue and power, what are you good for?" _

.

She grabbed a paper tissue from the table beside the bed. "Geez, stop crying, okay?" With a bit of hesitance, she gently pressed the tissue against his bruised face, and she grimaced when he winced at the flare of pain. Then Phantom seemed to catch himself, and he leaned towards her hand again, desperate to please her. He knew his new master of his did not deserve to lower herself in such ways to dry his tears. That he would make her feel conscious of his pain was yet another strike against himself.

But it seemed that for every tear he tried to hold back, three more slid down his face. His master believed those who had beat him were unworthy of her approval or respect. _They_ were unworthy, all of them—not him. And he wanted to feel her touch so badly—to feel his own worth in her care— for even the inadvertent pain she caused him was sweet against the agony of the hands of others.

.

_They grabbed his hair and dragged him up to his hands and knees. _

"_Let us beat him!" they begged to Pariah Dark, laughing. "Let us break him!" _

.

"Come on, Phantom," Valerie whispered, nearly begging, "stop making me feel like shit when I look at you. I've done you no favors." She tried to wipe away his tears again, this time carefully running the paper tissue beneath the rim of his bruised eye. She could feel his cold tears against her fingers. "The hell's going on in that brain of yours?"

But he could not answer her, unable to gather his memory or thoughts. All he could do was submissively nuzzle into her hand and focus on reining in his memories. He was not under the hand of Pariah Dark, and he could not contain his gratefulness for it.

Valerie grimaced a bit, feeling a blush rise to her own face as Dan slowly calmed, closing his eyes in contentment at the way she had begun to stroke his temples. Some other barrier was breaking down between them. She admitted, voice wavering, "This is getting weird, you know." She was beginning to wonder why he so desired her touch and why she seemed to respond so easily. Her fingers hooked into a few of the matted white strands at his temple, surprised at their softness. "You shouldn't…want me to do this."

_And I shouldn't want to do this either. _

With reluctant hesitance, she pulled away from him, her fingers slipping from his roughened cheek and soft hair. She needed to distract them both from their dangerous path.

The Red Hunter then cleared her throat awkwardly as she grabbed something from out of a pocket on her arm. It was a simple, black chain, upon which hung a small device. "I talked to some of our engineers while you were asleep," she said slowly, changing the subject to something more professional and distant. "I had them synchronize the frequency of this to my personal comm." She leaned in a bit, turning the small rectangle about so he could see it. "If for some reason anyone tries to attack you again, all you do is push this button. It'll trigger an alert for me, and I'll be able to trace your location and get there in 90 seconds."

His eyes blinked owlishly at her, as if to say, _…This is for me?_

"I'm trusting you to _not _abuse this," she warned, voice hard. "Don't call me for the hell of it. This is for emergencies only where you need my help. Got it?"

He nodded, a bit dazed.

"Good." She gently placed it over his head, turning the chain so the device rested upon his chest. The metal was still hot from Valerie's warmth. "Now don't lose it," she said firmly.

He winced as he moved his arm up and struggled to grip the device close to his chest. The comm tucked easily within the large expanse of his palm, and the chain of it would most likely hit him mid-chest if he were to sit up. He found himself in awe of Valerie again, that she would actively take such responsibility for him. This comm was a measure of safety. It was a small exercise of power for him, through which Valerie would drop everything to get to him. He held onto the comm as a lifeline, body shaking with the exertion.

_I will not lose this. I will not abuse this trust._

In comparison to the justice he had endured under Pariah Dark, he suddenly felt willing to subject himself to any punishment Valerie eventually saw fit for him. If she demanded his enslavement to her forever, he would obey her command. He would do anything to serve this new master, who was kind in ways she did not even realize.

She was not like others. Valerie the Ghost Slayer was worthy of being served. And Dan began to wonder if Valerie, despite her humanity, were perhaps more worthy of rulership than even Pariah Dark.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _So this was not quite as action-packed as previous Karma updates, but I felt it was necessary to focus on the relationship between Dan and Valerie specifically and the way their mindsets are changing as a result of each other's presence. I also tried to include some more background as to how Dan's mind became so shattered and willing to accept Valerie's rule. But now there's division within the resistance, Valerie is becoming emotionally compromised…and Pariah Dark is still at large. O_o Although I do enjoy Valerie's continuing nickname for Dan being "space cadet," which I find ironically appropriate, considering Danny Fenton's love of space. _

_Aftermath miniseries update, as requested, will be uploaded next! And then hopefully after that I will address some one-shot requests. _

_Please leave me with your thoughts, predictions, ideas, and requests! Thanks!_


	19. Aftermath Part 5

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Invader Johnny, cookieplzandthnx, Domination of the World, Abel Lacie Kiryu, MushuFireLorde, Above the Winter Moonlight, Trish, Crystalmoon39, ZoneRobotnik, MsFrizzle, Silverstone007, Roarri, and Zanza Flux for reviewing!_

_**Trish:**__ You should totally register for an account on the site! Trust me, it's much easier to keep track of all the stories you're watching for. :)_

_Thank you to those who gave me suggestions for a baby name. Special thanks to __**too enigmatic 2 b urs**__ for listening to me critically worry about my final decision, and for helping me make that final decision! _

_**Aftermath Miniseries Summary:**__ In his insanity and lust for Valerie, Dan Phantom rapes her, and she ends up pregnant with his child. She chooses to keep the baby so that she can raise it to defeat its father. But when Phantom returns months later as the newly-crowned Ghost King, he takes great interest in his unborn baby as the fulfillment of his desire for an heir to train and rule with. He forcibly kidnaps Valerie to the Ghost Zone, where she gives birth to Phantom's son and is forced into the role as the Queen of the Ghost Zone. Valerie and Dan then find themselves in a new kind of battle to gain control over the other, with their baby in the middle of the war. _

_**Aftermath Part 5:**__ Valerie thought the deal she made with Dan would protect her from ever being hurt by him again. She was wrong. Rating: High T, Genre: Drama/horror_

* * *

><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 19: Aftermath Part 5**

* * *

><p>When the Queen of the Ghost Zone demanded that she maintain separate sleeping chambers from the King, and the King granted her request, the servants marveled in awe. They knew the conditions under which Phantom had made Valerie the Ghost Slayer his Queen and the mother of his child; whispers of the King's total depravity could be shared only by silent glances and behind closed doors, but they all knew that their Queen was simply another unwilling conquest. They'd heard enough of Phantom's laughs and Valerie's sobs to know the truth. So the idea that Phantom would not force her to share his bed upon declaring her his Queen was…uncharacteristic, to say the least.<p>

The servants gossiped.

Originally, they thought perhaps the Queen was just a means to an end—that since she had born Phantom a son, and since he had declared the son legitimate by naming her Queen, she was no longer of use to him. But then that did not explain why Phantom asked after her constantly as she healed from giving birth. His strange concern was almost as relentless as his adoration for his newborn child. And though he appeared to obsess over his child dearly, he would relinquish his son to Valerie upon her every sharp demand.

For being the greatest victim of them all, the Queen was certainly spirited. And powerful.

The castle servants then realized that a spark of defiance still existed in Valerie the Ghost Slayer, and that she had most likely leveraged for her small freedoms. If that were the case, they thought, then she was truly the strongest being next to Phantom himself. No one else had managed to stand up to him. A beacon of hope rose that Phantom's will could be bent to hers. And for that reason alone, they served her without question, and with as much fear as they did Phantom.

She was, after all, the Ghost Slayer. It would not do to get on her bad side.

* * *

><p>Valerie looked down at her stomach and grimaced, pressing her fingers at the tender flesh that was still quite swollen. "When will it go away?" she moaned in complaint, leaning back on her pillows. "All those movies—you know, it's got the new mom back down to a size two the minute she pops the baby out. I'm still a freakin' balloon."<p>

Dora looked up from folding blankets and gave Valerie a soft, motherly look. "I'm afraid I do not know what a movie is, but it's only been three days," she said. "You had a difficult birth. You can't rush these things."

Tears squeezed out from the corners of Valerie's eyes as she huffed indignantly. "Well, that's dumb." She'd never been so constricted to a bed before with orders to rest. She'd never felt so strangely disjointed or emotionally unbalanced. "I have things to do. I don't have time for this."

She was getting restless. Phantom had not come to visit her since they had made their deal. According to the conditions, he was allowed to kiss her every night. She worried that he was planning something, which meant she needed to figure out immediately what it was. Did his absence mean that he could rack up kisses and force her to kiss him more than once in an evening?

The thought made her skin crawl. The unpredictability of his actions made her paranoid.

Dora looked a bit hesitant, but she turned around to grab a rather large, white box off a table. "While you were sleeping, the King dropped off a gift for you."

Valerie's eyebrows furrowed. "…A gift?" she repeated, hesitantly. "What is it, a snake or something? His own damn picture in a locket?"

Dora's lips twitched. "I fear not." She gently set the white box upon Valerie's legs. "But why don't you open it and find out?"

Dark curiosity overcame the human woman, and with a wince, she sat up against her pillows. "I'm gonna hate it, whatever it is," she grumbled.

But when she lifted the box, it felt fairly light. On it was a handwritten note from Phantom himself. The note was simple, the ink heavy and slanted. _**For the Naming Celebration in two days. **_

"…Naming Celebration?" Valerie wondered out loud, a sinking feeling marring her face with greater apprehension. She looked up at Dora.

Dora tried to smile, a bit fearful of Valerie's reaction. "Do not worry," she said lightly. "It's just an informal tradition that all kings do for their Heirs upon naming them, should the King have children. Which he has." She laughed nervously. "Of course."

Valerie tried not to make Dora feel worse. "Of course," she said dryly. But then she added, "Wait. Wait a minute. What is the tradition? What do you do? Why am _I_ in it if it's for the baby?"

"You and the King will need to name your son before the Celebration so that proper invitations can be sent to your vassals. On the day of the Celebration, all of those vassals will come to the castle to pay homage to their future king. The King and Queen are usually…together to accept the gifts."

Valerie's eye twitched. "The hell? What is this—the freakin' Lion King?" Dora gave her another helpless, confused look, and Valerie groaned, covering her face with her hands. "You mean, he's gonna have all the powerful ghosts that I've hunted, _here_? While I'm still…like this?" She poked again at her stomach.

Something about that was even more horrifying. It was one thing to suffer in misery, but an entirely different thing for everyone else to know about it and to look upon her and see the evidence of what Phantom had done to her.

Dora tilted her head. "It is an old tradition for Kings to host naming celebrations shortly after birth, yes. If it is your safety or the safety of your son that worries you, I guarantee that the King will not allow—"

"—It's not that," Valerie cut in, rubbing her temples. Her fingers were shaking. "Dammit, Dora. It's not that."

The ghost appeared displeased with her rough language. "Then what is it?" she asked.

Her breath hitched. "I don't want people to see me like this," she said softly. "I'm a ghost hunter. And—and they're gonna look at me and think—" She cut herself off then, realizing she didn't want to think about it. She imagined their amused stares.

_Oh, look at the powerful Ghost Slayer now! Phantom's tamed her into a trophy wife and a baby factory! He's got her whipped! Hhahahahaha—_

Or alternatively, their pity and their silence. Which was almost worse.

"You are their Queen," Dora said, voice firm. "Their opinions do not matter. If anyone disrespects you, then you are within power to order the end of their existence." She smiled weakly. "One of the many advantages of your position."

"One of the few," she muttered. That kind of power—to order someone's death for disrespect?—seemed counterintuitive to her principles. Usually, she just punched people in the face for that kind of crap. "But Phantom's gonna parade me around like some freaking prize, isn't he? Is that why he hasn't come to visit me? Oh my God—please tell me he's not gonna pull this deal of ours against me in front of everyone."

As Valerie's confident and only friend, Dora knew of the deal between the Queen and King. "It's…possible," Dora said lamely, biting her lip. "He has to present the image of a dominate ruler to his vassals to ensure they do not question him. You are a part of that front."

"Oh, _no_," Valerie said sharply, eyes wide. "I don't care—I'm not gonna play pretend and be shoved around like some marionette."

"Valerie," Dora said, "I do not think he is planning on your compliance. He only has to show that he is in control, not that you are lovers."

"Isn't it enough that he's already made me Queen? Can't he just leave me alone?"

"The position as Queen can be difficult," Dora said. She tried to smile weakly. "But why don't you try opening up your gift from the King? I think we could both use the distraction. Maybe you're worrying about nothing, even."

Valerie blinked. Then she remembered about the white box still resting innocently on her lap. "It can't possibly be a good thing," she said hesitantly. But she carefully pulled off the lid of the box. And black silk stared back at her. She picked at it a bit, greatly suspicious. "…A dress?" she whispered.

Dora moved forward. "Let me help you." She grabbed at the collar of the black silk, and she raised the dress up for Valerie to see. "What do you think?"

For a time, Valerie was speechless. The dress itself was floor-length black silk, with intricate back straps and an empire waist. It was actually quite beautiful. Its red and green geometric designs were most likely created to complement Dan's outfit for the Celebration. But she stared at the neckline, which was a sharp 'V' that would inevitably fall far lower than she imagined. She swallowed hard, eyes widening. "What the…hell?"

Dora lowered the dress a bit, tilting her head. "What is wrong with it?"

The human woman gaped and overreacted. "What's wrong with it? Where the hell does the neckline stop?!" She raised her hand and pulled at the neckline with shaking fingers. "It's too low," she said, feeling panic rise in her.

People would see. Everyone would see what Phantom had done to her, all of those months ago. Dora was one thing—she was almost a confidant now. She understood…things. But all of the other ghosts, Phantom himself? They would see many of the scars Valerie had long hidden from the sight of others. For on the chocolate skin of her collarbones, were lighter scars—puncture wounds and nicks from fangs. They had all healed with a lighter scar tissue that made them stand out on her skin.

Dora said gently, worried, "The King commissioned this dress for you, but that's it. Valerie, it will do you no good to panic now."

The human woman nearly cried as she laughed bitterly. "Panic? I'm not panicking. And of course he would commission it! He just loves to make decisions for me." She scratched a bit anxiously at her collarbone, voice strangling, "I don't want them to see. You understand? I don't want to wear this. Get me something else."

Dora looked conflicted. "I'm not sure if I can," she said slowly, voice pained. "He specifically had this designed for you. If you wish to remain in the good graces of the King, you need to wear the dress."

"His good graces?" Valerie repeated harshly. "He doesn't have good graces!"

The ghost bit her lip, then reached out her hand and lightly patted Valerie's shoulder. "I am sorry that I cannot help you. But we are not yet in a position to challenge him. You're still healing. Go along with him for now, and endure it so that we may live to plan another day."

Valerie's breath hitched. "Do you even know what he'll do to me? How he'll react if he sees these scars? He'll get all touchy and self-satisfied again. I can't take it."

Dora gave her a pained look. "Your deal," she said slowly. "It should protect you, right? Is this not just another attempt to… wear you down?"

For a time, the human woman was silent. She seemed almost in shock, as if she could not believe the events of her own life. But then she realized that this was a battle.

Dan was challenging her.

"Oh, he's _wearing _me down all right," she whispered in a snarl. Despite her fear, she pushed her blankets aside and winced as she stood up. Dora nearly dropped the dress in surprise, racing over to Valerie to help her stand. "But I'm not gonna take this lying down."

She huffed a bit breathlessly, eyes wide in fear. Even standing still hurt. "I'm gonna go talk to him. He has no right to enforce a dress code on me. And it's about damn time he gave me my son back too." She grabbed the silk dress from Dora with a snap.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later found Valerie wandering about the castle corridors in a frustrated mess.<p>

She about got herself lost on the way to Phantom's personal chambers, and she had nearly talked herself out of it. What was she doing? Was she crazy? Was it better for her to take the punishment and use it against him, or confront him directly and win some basic rights?

The chess game she found herself in was excessively more complicated than she had first imagined. Everything had advantages and disadvantages. She would risk falling into Phantom's traps either way. And she knew he was trying to make her compromise herself.

She supposed, if he could not touch her, she could use the dress against him too. She could make him distracted and irritated with desire by the sight of her, and then rub it in his face that he could have had her if he'd simply never forced his love.

But then she inhaled. Valerie Gray never backed down from a fight. Valerie Gray would never use a low dress to win, either. So with that thought, Valerie stayed true to herself, and she opened the door to Phantom's chambers with intentions to verbally lash him.

The doors were unguarded (although, who would really dare to challenge the King but for her?). The movements of the strange, sleek metal were smooth, and so she entered into the room with hardly a sound.

Valerie opened her mouth to begin yelling. But her eyes landed on a strange sight, and she stared in silent shock, clicking her mouth shut.

Dan was half-dressed and asleep on a large, black bed in the center of the room, the baby cradled on top of his bare chest. The baby appeared asleep too, its tiny body raising with Dan's even breaths.

Valerie froze at the sight. It was strange to see Dan vulnerable. She was using to his imposing uniforms and capes, and instead she now saw his hard muscles relaxed in complete contentment. His long and tapering hands were wrapped protectively about the baby latched to his chest. A black blanket tilted off of the baby in crumpled piles. The baby's face was slack in the same angles that Dan's was—a disturbing testimony to his genetics.

Her tormentor looked younger in sleep, the sharp angles of his face softened, his thin lips opened in a fraction, his fire hair dampened to slow flickers about his face and pillow. Dan had a not unpleasant configuration of body lines, and it bothered her to think so. In the dark of the night so many months ago, that _not unpleasant_ body had held her down and—

She inhaled sharply, nearly wincing. She realized that she should be thinking of ways to slit his throat in his sleep, now that she knew he did sleep. She couldn't think of the past. She had to keep moving forward. She had to stop thinking of the past—only of the future, and ways to ensure Phantom's downfall.

At the sound of Valerie's inhale, Dan's red eyes suddenly opened a slit. He lazily stared at her. No hatred or lust or anger darkened his gaze. Instead, he looked at her with something almost akin to fond surprise, scanning from her wild bun of tangled hair to her loose shirt and pants.

"Valerie," he breathed in greeting. His voice seemed to caress the syllables of her name, and she swallowed hard, backing away. Something about this felt intimate to her. It made her more skittish than she'd expected.

The baby's eyes open in half-lidded awareness of the rumble of his father's voice, its entire body vibrating with the sound. A small noise, like a sigh, wavered from its mouth and it snuggled back into Dan's chest.

"What are you doing here?" Dan asked Valerie as he sat up, carefully readjusting his grip on the baby to support its neck and weight. "I could have sworn you requested separate sleeping chambers, and yet here you are…" He smiled a bit too wide. "Standing in the doorway and watching me sleep."

She flushed indignantly. "I like my separate rooms, thank you very much. And I have better things to do than watch you sleep. Hell if I knew you did anything _normal_."

He raised a brow merrily at the way she worked herself into a fit. "I don't have to sleep," he shrugged. He looked down in amused love at the baby cradled in his arms. "But it seems that's all this one wants to do. Now tell me why you've interrupted our very important father-son bonding nap."

She gripped tighter onto the silk dress, wrinkling it. "I came to talk to you," she said, keeping her voice low to avoid upsetting the baby. "About your incredibly shitty choices that you keep making with my life."

Suddenly, the love and peace was gone, and Dan's entire body darkened with irritation and darkness. "…Did you really just come here," he breathed, "to _whine_ at me?"

She set her jaw. Although her body quivered in fear, she threw the silk dress to the floor. Then she pointed to it, swallowing hard. "Who do you think you are to run my life like this?" Her voice quivered with anger. "You just…decided to have some stupid ceremony? You just decided to make me wear that dumb dress? What the hell?"

He was not impressed with her ire. "It is a Naming Celebration," he sniffed. "A royal tradition, for which I commissioned an appropriate outfit for you as the Queen."

She gaped at him. "Appropriate?" she repeated, voice strangling. Her face twisted. "_Appropriate?_ Maybe for a senior prom, but sure as hell not for some royal tradition."

A glimmer of lazy mischief sparked in his eyes. "I know," he said. "But as we're the first multiracial rulers of the Zone, I imagine your dress will be only one of many ways we…break tradition."

Her eye twitched. "I don't give a damn. I'm not wearing it. I'm not a freakin' prostitute, or a trophy wife, or—or whatever the hell you think I am! I will choose my own clothes, without help from you!"

As she spoke, Dan gently lowered the baby onto the bed, wrapping his discarded cape around his son like a nest. The baby whined a bit at the loss, but the cape's scent and heavy material relaxed him, and it enclosed him to keep him safe from rolling around on the bed.

Then Dan moved away from the bed to float closer to the Queen. She began to back away, eyeing him in suspicion. He inched closer.

"Valerie," he mocked, pouty. "Spoiled, _selfish_ Valerie. I have given you everything you asked, and yet still you accost me with your whining. What do you possibly want now?" He leaned in, eyes demonic. "Would you prefer to wear nothing to your son's own Celebration?"

Great fear burrowed from within her, but Valerie knew how Dan worked. He would not truly kill her—he simply enjoyed testing her. She was the Queen now. He had named her, out of all of the beings in the universe, the Queen of the Ghost Zone. She tried to breath normally, even as she squirmed under his gaze. "You're a jerk," she growled.

Phantom stared at her. Then a triumphant, pleased smirk stretched his lips at his imaginings. "The dress isn't even that low," he hummed merrily. "Why, I believe it will hit you right…here—"

His fingertips ghosted over her shirt, just beneath her chest.

She inhaled sharply, pulling away from him. "Do not touch me," she hissed lowly, voice raising into a near squeak. "Don't you dare. You promised—the deal, remember?"

He smiled a lazy, amused smile. "You can't hide yourself from me forever," he said lightly. "It's nothing I haven't already seen."

Her face burned. "And nothing you're gonna see ever again."

Suddenly, his face darkened.

He grabbed onto her shoulders, his fingers digging in a little too hard into her skin. A muffled noise of pain slipped from her lips. "Now, let's get something straight," he said, voice falsely happy. "I've made you my Queen. I've agreed to make...allowances. But that does not mean that I don't get what I want." She gasped, eyes widening in shock and fear as he pushed her against a cold wall. Her back hit the stone as she tried to jerk away from him.

He held her strong, tilting his head. "So," he said, "when I ask you to do small favors—wearing a dress, sitting by my side at a boring Celebration—you'd better do them. Or I'll forget our little…bedroom agreement."

Valerie's heart stopped. Her mind blitzed. _Oh my god. Ohmigod. Not again._

He lovingly stroked the high neckline of her shirt, and his fingers dipped the collar lower, beneath her collarbones. His red eyes stared with increasing desire at the small scars he remembered marking her with. "I suppose I forgot how fragile human flesh is," he said casually. "How delightful that you carry these."

"Let me go," she whispered, voice shaking. "Y-you promised."

His fingers stroked the scarred divots. "You mean you don't even want me to see?"

She cringed, fearfully squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head away. "You're touching me," she said. Her voice quivered. "You s-said you wouldn't."

.

_"Come on, Valerie. Isn't this __**fun**__?" _

.

As if stricken, he released her suddenly, realizing he had again probably crossed some line with her, and he did not want to jeopardize his rights to kiss her. He seemed greatly irritated. "You obviously have no idea how much I hate our agreement. How hard it wears on me to see you and not…give in."

For a time, she re-centered, breathing a bit unevenly. The horrors of an instinctive fear—nine months earlier—echoed everywhere as she pulled herself away from the wall. It was the feeling of being suffocated and held down all over again.

Only this time, she knew that Dan would not go away.

Valerie glared, forcibly readjusting the collar of her shirt to smooth out evidence that he had touched her. She forced herself to sound strong. "Getting to choose what I wear was _not_ part of the deal."

He said simply. "You're denying me what I want, so I will deny you what you want as well and torment you in any way I still can." He smiled. "We both have to make _sacrifices_ with this deal of ours. It's a give and take. This is what relationships are all about."

Valerie's eyes hardened. "Don't talk to me about sacrifice and relationships," she whispered harshly. "You destroyed everything I ever wanted to be. You killed my friends." Her voice faltered. "I don't even know if my _father_ is alive."

He waved them off. "Most of the survivors were indentured as war prizes," he said easily. "They're not dead; just serving my vassals."

Valerie felt horror prickle down her spine at the thought of her comrades in the Ghost Zone somewhere, serving some ally of Dan Phantom himself. It was almost as terrifying as the thought of them being dead. "And so what about my dad?" she breathed. "Was he a survivor?"

"No," he said flatly. "My armies provided me with a list of the humans who are now living in my empire. Your father's name was not one of them." Dan turned away in disinterest, his expression alighting at his son. He flew back to the bed and swept the tired baby up into his protective arms. "But it's no matter; your father was bound to die soon anyway. Perhaps I even did him a favor."

She stared at her own son in the arms of a depraved man, and she trembled. For a second, she lost her place in space and time. She stood there dumbly, in disbelief and claustrophobia. The walls felt as if they were sinking in around her, or that Dan was pushing her down again. "You give me _my _son," she whispered. "Right now."

He looked confused, and a bit surprised by her reaction. "But—"

"—Right now," she demanded shakily. "I mean it."

Per their deal, Dan sniffed in irritation. Then he complied, and he gently lifted the baby towards her. She grabbed for the baby in a quick motion, pulling it close. The small infant immediately recognized her on some instinctive level.

Then she turned away and began to walk.

Dan watched her go, red eyes narrowing in pain. "It was better this way," he said. "Without anyone to get in our way, we can build an empire unlike any other! Can you imagine your father's disgust for a half-ghost grandchild?" He leaned forward, eyes lit with fury.

"He loved me," Valerie cried. "He was concerned for the baby too!"

Dan scoffed. "You are deluded. He despised me. By proxy, he hated our child. Perhaps he did not show it to you, but I know the truth."

Her strong steps paused, and she turned around. She hugged her baby tight. "That's a lie," she whispered, but somewhere she had been wondering the same thing. Tears began to burn her eyes. The baby made helpless noises in her arms. "It's a lie, you hear? So don't you dare use that as an excuse for _murdering_ my father!"

"Oh, Valerie. It's only murder when they don't deserve it."

The already-cracked wall of her will began to crumble. Tears she promised to never spill again in his presence suddenly bubbled down her face. Her father was dead.

Dead.

"He's all I had," she cried, fingers clutching into the blanket around her baby as if it were the crumbling edge of her sanity. She glared at Dan from behind watery eyes, even as the baby began to hiccup with its own cries of frustration. "You took everything. Everyone away."

Dan's lip curled, as if caught between irritation and remorse. "You have us," he said firmly. "We are family now."

"No, we're not," Valerie said, voice hitching. "You have no idea what the word family even means." The baby's head seemed to tilt into her, its hot tears sinking into her skin.

"I know exactly what it means!" Dan said, voice raising in a sharp, seething tone. His fingers slammed into the wall, and the stone crumbled under his strength. She flinched at the sound. "You think I never had a family once? You think I never had a father or a mother?" He laughed, but it was harsh and angry. "You think I haven't felt the sting of their absence every day in my afterlife?"

She cried out, "How the hell am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Do you even know what you've done to me?!"

"I have given you _power _beyond your wildest means," he snarled. "I've freed you from every bond you had to a pointless race, and I gave you a new purpose that I saw fitting to our…relationship. You are Queen. I've relinquished any other woman's right to rule alongside me but you. I've tied myself to you."

Valerie realized they were going down the same argument pattern as they always did. "I never wanted power," she whispered. "And I definitely don't want you." Then she readjusted the baby in her arms and began to walk away. "You can keep that ugly dress too!" she called over her shoulder.

For a time, he stood in awe.

"Dammit," he breathed, watching her go. Something about her riled up every nerve within him in either deep desire or great hatred. He no longer knew which was which, for he somehow still wished that she would turn around and tell him that she really did want him.

But she didn't. And so he wanted to kill her.

He lurched forward. He would not lose their argument. "Valerie!" he called out angrily. "I demand my kiss for the evening."

"Fuck no," she said.

The instant she denied him and broke her side of the deal, he grabbed onto her arm hard and jerked her back. She nearly dropped her baby, and in the moment of instinctive reaction to protect her son, Dan overpowered her. She struggled against him, eyes widening in fear and hatred.

"Too bad," he hissed, demonic eyes glowing. And then he kissed her. But instead of the sensual kiss that sealed their deal, this one was painful. Dan's sharp teeth pressed hard against the soft flesh of her lips, and his sharp nails nearly cut into her arms.

The baby was squished between them, and it began to wail unsteadily, squirming.

Valerie cried out against his lips. He forced himself into her mouth, his snake tongue demanding everything it could take. Valerie's eyes widened, first in terror.

Then she felt rage.

In a split second, she bit down hard on his tongue, and he flinched, accidentally slicing her lips with his fangs. A muffled cry sounded from their throats as they both suddenly pulled away from each other, eyes wide.

The baby was wailing hard now, its face red and pained. It seemed greatly frustrated, and its limbs flailed.

Neither its mother or father reacted. Instead they stared at the other in awe, their child's cries but white noise between them.

The corners of Valerie's full lips began to shine with red blood as she stared at Dan in hatred. "Don't you ever do that again." She licked her lips, nose scrunching at the metallic taste of her own blood. Her entire body shook in fury and fear even as she tried to calm the baby's cries.

Dan held a hand over his mouth, eyes narrowed in pain as his tongue quickly regenerated its superficial wounds. He pulled his hand away, swallowing to test the integrity of his tongue. "You actually _bit_ me," he said in irritated wonder.

She whispered, voice ragged. "Don't you get it? I fucking _hate_ you. And everything you do just makes me hate you more."

Dan looked disturbed by her. He wanted to be pleased with her defiance—at last, the normal Valerie!—but something was too true, too personal about her hate. It was different now.

It wasn't just banter.

The ghost's voice lowered with strangled emotion. He said, "Whatever you think of me, you will take your throne beside me officially as my Queen. You will dress and act as Queen, and you will uphold your end of the deal to allow me one kiss per night. If you don't, I will not uphold my end of the deal. I will take our son away from you forever, I will strike your title from the records, and I will indulge my every desire for you, whether you want it or not. Do you understand the consequences of our deal?" He stepped forward in great pain. "The sacrifices we're both making?"

Valerie blinked hard, eyes wide. She bit her cut lip, on which the shallow nicks had begun to clot over. "Sacrifice?" she whispered, voice breaking. "You call basic self-control a sacrifice for you?"

"Answer my question."

Her spirit rose in anger at his command. She retorted, "I know what the deal meant."

"Good," he said. He looked excessively perturbed, as if shocked by himself and by her. "You should know that I do not uphold deals with just anyone. It's the tension, Valerie. It's always the tension." A wry, tired smile twitched his lips, but then it was gone under the hardened pain of his anger. "We are equals in our misery."

"I doubt that. A lot."

His eyes narrowed. "You think I wanted things this way? All you had to do was admit you wanted this too. But you have to make the simple things so difficult."

Valerie gaped at him, still holding onto their baby tight. "_I _make things difficult? You're the one who fucked everything up."

He breathed deep, raising a thick brow. "And speaking of fucking, you still owe me two kisses," he said, voice unreadable. "Two for each night I allowed you rest."

Her face flushed in fury. "Don't make it sound like you did me a favor," she hissed.

"I _did_ do you a favor." Dan's eyes were dark. "Now return it."

The human woman's breath hitched. "How can you—how do you even live with yourself?" She looked either half-ready to cry or scream. "Look, I know I agreed to the deal, okay? But you already freakin' bit me; can't you just…wait?"

He looked towards a clock hanging on the wall. "In a few hours, it will be a new day. And then you will owe me three."

A muffled groan escaped her throat, and she leaned her head against the baby's, closing her eyes. "No," she whispered. "You touched me, so today doesn't count because you broke your end of the deal. So it's still just two, and just…not tonight. Not anymore tonight."

He eyed her as if to measure her up. And then, slowly, he nodded. "Then give me my son back. I wish to hold him."

She looked hesitant, but she knew she had already pushed her luck. She also knew that no matter how angry he was at her, he would never truly injure their son. "Fine."

The force it took to walk towards him was enough to move mountains. Every nerve in her body was screaming against her to _stop stop stop_. But she stepped forward.

When she transferred the baby into Dan's arms, she nearly flinched as their skin brushed. He was so cold, he almost emanated heat. He did not miss the way Valerie stiffened against him, or the way that the baby itself wiggled uncomfortably at the sudden transition from hot to cold on its bare skin.

Dan backed away wearily the instant that he had the baby, as if he knew that Valerie would run if she remained too close for too long.

The baby began to recognize him again by scent, and it snuggled into him, if not a bit hesitantly. A part of him softened, his anger and uncertainty with Valerie falling away.

Valerie inhaled a deep breath and then turned around, as if to leave.

"You know, we _do_ need to name our son before the Celebration," Dan called to her, staring at his blue-eyed son with great love. He stroked the baby's cheek, wiping away the baby's tears with his thumb. Although he was unafraid to show great affection for his son in public, there was something more intimate and fatherly in the way he acted away from prying eyes. "And if you're done indulging your own needs, maybe you can fit naming your own child into your schedule."

Her jaw set at that. She turned around. "Oh, do _not _play that card with me," she said harshly. "Did you give birth to him? Do you have to feed him all the time?"

"We have servants to feed him," he said shortly.

She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "He's supposed to only drink milk," she said, a bit pained. "Where do you think that comes from?"

Dan raised a brow, then looked down at her chest, then back at his son in great, sudden jealousy. "You lucky bastard," he mused. "I can't touch her, but she'll let _you_ climb all over her. I see how this is."

The baby giggled through its tears, only comprehending the half-pained rumble of his father's voice. His small fingers lightly wrapped against one of Dan's fingers, and the ghost melted, his petulant expression turning to grudging reluctance. "Fine. I'll forgive you this time, but only because you're too young to appreciate what you've got going on."

Valerie rubbed her temples, irritated. "God, you're messed up."

"No, I am supremely jealous," he hummed, lifting bedroom eyes at her. But he seemed to notice her skittishness and narrowing eyes, the way she looked up to search for exits.

So. She was still shaken from their previous argument. This new Valerie was more unpredictable and far less resilient than the original one, even with the deal.

As Dan laid on his back, he raised his son up high above him, his strong arms holding up the baby's weight with minimal effort. The baby cooed, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness. Dan's lips twitched up in delight. "Now, come on, Valerie," he called to her. He cradled his son close on his chest, seemingly back to an equilibrium of emotion. "Help me name our child. It's important that we do this together."

She asked tiredly, "Why, so you can torture me more?"

"No. So that _our child_ feels loved. Now sit with us and help me decide upon a name."

Suspicion weaved into her. "That's just an excuse to get me on your bed," she muttered.

But she was exhausted from the adrenaline and the pain of being on her feet for the first time in days. So she tentatively sat at the very edge of Dan's bed, eying his room for the first time. Everything was mostly black and silver, with the green glow of the Ghost Zone and soft lights to illuminate the small, detailed inlays on the walls.

The baby's blue eyes—God, what kind of blue were they? Where had she seen them before?—drifted over to her. It held its hands out, and its face scrunched in concentration as it reached for her.

Dan seemed to notice the baby's request and rolled his eyes. "Momma's boy," he complained. "You're supposed to be bonding with _me_." But he could not deny his son's wishes. With a sigh, he lifted the baby up and swung it over to its mother, and it happily giggled.

The baby latched onto Valerie like a leech, and she wrapped her arms around it instinctively, looking at Dan in triumph. It was becoming easier to think of herself as a mother and this half-ghost child as hers. She wanted to hold it.

Dan watched her intently, delighted at how Valerie melted for his own flesh and blood. So she did truly love their son, at least.

"Okay," she said, looking over at Dan in great weariness. She figured she'd be here a while. "So he needs a name." She felt uncertain, trying to make such an important decision. With Phantom, of all people.

The ghost eyed his son. "What names have you considered?" he asked.

"Damien," Valerie automatically challenged.

He did not appear entirely unhappy with the name. "I suppose we should not name him after me," he said. He did not try to explain how disconcerting it would be to look at his son's blue eyes and call out the name Daniel. "But Damien is your father's name."

"So what if it is?" she demanded, raising a brow.

"We are not naming him after your pathetic father," he sniffed.

She huffed. "And did you even have a dad?"

His expression darkened with the distant memories of a jolly face and a childish wonder. "No," he said flatly. "I did not."

"Don't lie to me." She eyed him in strange amusement. "Life comes from somewhere. What was his name?"

It was the first time ever that Valerie actively had taken interest in his origins. It caught him off-guard enough that he could not think of a clever response. "Jack," he admitted slowly. "His name was Jack."

She looked surprised. "Just…Jack?"

"Yep."

"That just sounds too simple for someone involved with you."

"Well…he was an excessive idiot. It was fitting."

Valerie's face twisted into something sneaky. "Let's name him Jack." If only to bother Dan.

The baby cooed and clapped at the sound.

Valerie's heart melted a bit as she held the baby closer. "You like that? Jack?"

The baby smiled a toothless smile, his blue eyes shining.

Phantom stared in shock. "You've got to be kidding me," he said, voice incredulous. "_Jack_?"

"He likes the name," Valerie said solidly.

"No, he doesn't—you're raising your voice like an idiot when you say that name, and he's laughing at you." He huffed. "That's pure manipulation."

But in truth, the name was less painful than _Daniel_. As he stared into his son's eyes, some part of him gave way. "The name does not strike fear into the hearts of enemies," he said. "It's a horrible name for the heir of an empire spanning dimensions. He needs something stronger."

Valerie remained adamant. "I like Jack." It was simple and plain and it wasn't stuffy. It was fitting to the lighthearted and caring nature of her son.

The gears in Dan's mind were turning. _Jack. Jack_. How to improve that name? "How about Jaxon?" he challenged, testing the name on his lips. "I like the name with an 'x.'"

Jaxon. _Jack's son._ A play on heritage, cleverly disguised.

Valerie looked his way, raising a brow. "Jaxon?"

He sniffed. "You demand the name Jack. I request a modification, so that he maintains a flair of sounding actually important."

The human woman frowned. "Well, I guess…Jaxon isn't a bad name…" She bit her lip, then winced, having forgotten that Dan had cut her lip with his fangs.

He did not miss her surprised twitch of pain and the way her hands seemed to clench tighter onto her baby. But he said nothing as Valerie turned to him again. "I was thinking of a middle name too," she said hesitantly, eyeing Dan as if to measure his reactions.

He seemed intrigued. He leaned in, tilting his head. "Oh, Valerie. Did you look over baby books like a stereotypical pregnant woman?" He seemed delighted.

She grew defensive. "Hey, they say that a name defines your destiny. That's kinda important. And since you already nixed the first name I was planning on, you should listen to me now."

"I always listen to you," he said lazily. "Do go on."

According to the few name books in the Amity Park library, the name had meant _protector of man_. "Alexander. I like that name too."

Dan weighed the name silently. Then he said, "Well, I suppose Alexander the Great was a young general who conquered more land than most. He was a prodigy in his time, just as our son will be. Very well. I accept this addition. But I get to name the second one, since most of the work was you on this one."

"…The second what?"

"Our second child," he said casually.

Valerie stared at him with narrowed eyes. "You're not getting a second one."

Dan huffed, smirking. "So you say for now." Then he raised a brow at her. "You'll wear down soon enough."

"Pretty damn sure I won't," she said, angered, face flushing.

But the name of their son was their first mutual agreement, in which both looked upon it favorably and without hatred of the decision.

Dan dropped their banter to focus back on the baby. "So we will announce him as Prince Jaxon Alexander Gray of the Phantom Dynasty," he said, raising his son up. The baby was wide awake and alert now, as if it knew something important was being said about it. Dan brushed noses with it, and the baby giggled. "Jax, for short."

Valerie looked a bit surprised. "Wait.…Gray?" She said hesitantly.

Dan looked to her once, then looked away and said hesitantly. "He is alive because of you as much as he is because of me." There was something genuine that softened Dan's lines toward her. "I will honor that," he added, voice uncertain with strange patterns.

The human woman stood up from the bed, swallowing hard. She suddenly wasn't sure if Dan was trying to manipulate her or be honest. But she had won certain battles, and she'd lost a few too. It was best not to push any lines and lose all of her battles. And her son now carried the name of _protector_. Maybe the future wasn't entirely lost.

With a bit of a grump, she leaned down. Her fingers reached for the crumpled dress on the floor, and she lifted it, lips curling down at the sight of it. "You should know that I still hate this thing," she muttered, wincing as she raised back up.

Dan watched her leave, eyeing the way Valerie still walked unevenly and the way she grasped at her still-distended stomach. "Your hatred in no way disrupts my excitement to see you in it!" he called out.

Valerie flipped him the bird and then slammed the door shut. Jax flinched in Dan's arms. Then the baby wiggled a bit, trying to get comfortable and sighing some soft noise—as if irritated but not enough to cry.

Dan stared at the closed door, his face dropping into contempt and irritation. "Jax, your mother is infuriating. Did you not see the way she swept in here, woke us up from a nice nap, and then threw down my gift to her?" He huffed. "_Women_."

The newly-named baby gurgled a bit. Dan took it as agreement. "Exactly."

Jax huffed.

Dan gently ran his fingers along the baby's back to distract himself. The tall and wide walls felt as if his bedroom were suddenly an endless tunnel, echoing back only himself. "It's not supposed to be like this, you know," he complained. "We are supposed to celebrate your naming together. She's supposed to be happy about this. She's supposed to stay _here_."

But Valerie's strange reactions took him back to several months ago, to the instant he'd pushed her down. He thought of her face—the way her half-conscious eyes had stared beyond him in horror at the universe. It burned him.

After he'd had his way with her that night, he'd covered her body with the shreds of her suit, looking each way in paranoia that perhaps someone had seen or heard her cries. He had nearly left her in the gravel of the Wastelands, but she did not move and simply continued to bleed out on the dirt. And so he'd turned back and picked her up to fly her to the edge of the barrier. She'd been nearly limp, her breath hitched, limbs shaking. She had still struggled to breathe from him choking her.

Dan closed his eyes, his fangs gnashing deep into his lip. _Dammit._ It was the same burn of fear and paranoia—that this was not the way things were supposed to be. He did not know what the emotion truly was, but he knew it was not one he wanted to feel.

As he rested with his son, he imagined Valerie lying beside them, her body curled up by his. If he closed his eyes, he could dream of him and Valerie as the perfect family—and Jax as the product of the deep understanding of tension between them. He could dream of the way Valerie would demand and give her love in that same, huffy but honest manner that was uniquely Valerie. He could dream of Valerie as a Queen whose rule would be as terrifying and inspiring as his own.

But when he opened his eyes, he realized she was not curled up beside him in great contentment, ready to rule or raise their son at any moment. She did not gaze at him in frustrated love or desire. She could not even stand to be in his presence.

He thought back to the cuts he'd accidentally slit on her lips with his fangs, and the night he'd pushed her down and she'd stared up at nothing in horror, struggling to breathe. It was the same feeling. His face flushed green, with rising emotions that he still could not name. The fear and paranoia—it was all-encompassing.

.

"_I don't get you," she whispered. "You do…th-this to me, and…" her voice hitched. "Now you're __**sorry**__? Is that what I'm hearing?" _

.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "She doesn't understand," he whispered harshly to Jax, curling about him, as if to siphon its heat. The baby freely gave its love and cuddled against its father. "It was for the both of us. She wanted it."

But deep down, something told him that she didn't, and that not even a crown would make Valerie compromise her hate to love him. He'd given her everything he imagined she could want—power and prestige—and still she despised him.

He would have to make her will crumble to his somehow.

Although he still treasured their chess games, these recent ones did not please him as they did before. The banter was too final, with too much emotional investment. Perhaps not all was lost through their deal, in which he could redirect her emotions (he had _felt _the tension between them). But as long as she did not love him, the problems would always exist. Their chess games would always end in frustration.

Jax would probably get hurt too. Dan could see the way his son wavered in favor between them.

"She will try to turn you against me," Dan whispered in realization, eyes dark as he stroked his son's soft back, "and she will try to destroy me. But I will not allow this. I will turn her against herself. I will redirect her hatred into desire. And then our chess games will be corrected, and she will become the Queen we need her to be."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Remember that canon episode between Danny and Valerie with the flour-sack? I feel like this chapter kind of parallels that whole struggle, in which both Dan and Val are struggling with the concept of shared responsibility and partnership. Except, you know, the circumstances in this are more forced and cruel than a school assignment. I seriously just thought of this, now that I'm done writing this chapter. _

_As an aside, Dan's immediate reaction to actually realizing he'd forced himself on Valerie was inspired by case details in Truman Capote's book In Cold Blood, in which the killer, upon realizing he'd murdered children, tried to make their dead bodies look comfortable. Because Dan does seem to want Valerie's love, I imagine he would feel immediate shame and attempt to cover up and forget about his sin of raping her, which is perhaps why he disappeared for so many months into the Ghost Zone back in Aftermath Part 2, diving into the task of becoming the Ghost King—only to realize later that Valerie was not only pregnant, but choosing to keep his child alive. Hence his immediate attempts to make her love him again and correct their relationship in his horribly misguided, twisted way. Just a thought. _

_By the way, thanks again for all of the help regarding the baby's name. I hope you like what I chose. _

_Please leave me with a review of your thoughts, comments, predictions, or requests! Thanks!_


	20. Dan's Secret VALentine Plans

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP_

_Thanks to Invader Johnny, Gerren, Abel Lacie Kiryu, MushuFireLorde, ZoneRobotnik, Cookieplzandthnx, Crystalmoon39, Domination of the World, SweetestChick, Zanza Flux, Silverstone007, and Trish for reviewing last time! For those interested, an Aftermath Part 6 is currently in the making. _

_I'm not sure if I'm going to do a one-shot for every major American holiday (as that's my country of origin), but I figured hey, why not give it a try? Sorry for the somewhat late update. Real life Valentine's Day plans kind of got in the way. _

_**Summary Shot 20:** Valerie hates Valentine's Day for one major reason. Dan capitalizes off that reason to forever flip the chessboard in an unexpected way. Rating: Low T. Genre: Humor/Romance_

* * *

><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 20: Dan's Secret VALentine Plans**

* * *

><p>Valerie stared in horror. "Oh my god," she said. Her voice was strangled. "You've got to be kidding me."<p>

Her long-time stalker from high school, Nathan, stood up from his kneeling position, eyes desperate. "Please," he begged her. He held out a delicately made card and a small, red box—both of which supposedly were symbols of his undying love. "I've been waiting a long time to ask you. Just one date. One night."

"You ask the same thing every year," she told him, voice hard with strangled terror. "Nathan, seriously. This is weird. You told me you'd stop."

"But you don't understand!" He looked as though he would cry. "I can't help it. I love you. I'd die for you. Please, Val: just this once! Please, just be my valentine this one time!"

Nathan had undergone many transformations during adolescence. Although he had tamed his wild, red afro into short locks, switched his coke bottle glasses for contacts, and shaped up through basic training, he was still quite socially awkward. And by socially awkward, Nathan primarily obsessed over nothing but Valerie, who had become even more of a heroine to him since she had obtained Military Commander status.

She backed away, feeling suffocated by his presence. "I don't want to be your valentine, or your girlfriend. Or your anything. I'm sick of this."

"Why won't you say yes?" he begged.

She backed away. "I'm not interested." She hardened her voice against him. "And if you keep asking me, I _will_ get a restraining order on you."

The man looked terrified at the thought. "No, no. I can't be away. Don't do that—please."

"Then stop stalking me!" Valerie nearly begged. "Seriously. You creep me out more than Phantom does, and that's saying something."

Nathan stepped closer to her. Valerie stepped back. "I'm not stalking you." He raised his gifts to her again. "And I'm better than Phantom. Come on. We're getting older." He looked desperate. "We're almost twenty-five, and you're still alone, and I am too. How long do I have to wait? How many rings do I have to buy you before you say yes?"

Nathan had probably put a lot of time and money into his gifts, which made Valerie's horror and guilt even greater. The reminder of her own age and relationship status made her twice as skittish. "Please tell me that's not another wedding ring," she pleaded, staring down at the small jewelry box in his hand.

The man opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly, Valerie's Phantom Tracker on her suit began to bleep. She looked down, visible relief sliding off every line in her body. "Oh, thank God," she said. Then she caught herself, and she looked up at Nathan. "Er, I mean I have to go save Amity Park! Again!" She laughed nervously, face tight with fear. She didn't want to actually appear_ grateful_ for Phantom's well-timed appearance, but…she was horrible with emotions and even more horrible with confronting other people's emotions about her.

The red-head gazed at her, heartbroken even within his worship of her. "Valerie, please. Don't go. Tell me you'll say yes."

She mentally called forth her jet sled, and it configured under her feet as she jumped into the air.

_Just gotta get away—!_

And she left Nathan in the silence of the morning, his arms drooping to the ground, his valentine's card falling into the mud.

* * *

><p>Within minutes, Valerie breathed in the open air of the Wastelands, free from the presence of Nathan. "Oh thank God," she called out. She was so relieved to get away, she hadn't even unholstered her blaster yet, and she'd left her helmet off. She floated in some aimless trajectory based upon Phantom's last location. "I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't show up at all."<p>

Her Phantom Tracker bleeped out an increasing rhythm. He was nearby.

From beyond the wreckage that was once a large skyscraper, black mist appeared and configured itself into the sharp lines of Dan Phantom. The powerful ghost crossed his arms as he leaned against a rusting beam. "Why is it," he drawled slowly, eyebrow raised, "that every Valentine's Day you _want _me to fight you? Still trying to avoid your adoring fans?"

Valerie paused on her jet sled. She still looked distracted and relieved, despite the appearance of her worst enemy. "Just one in particular."

"Aww," he mocked in false sympathy. "But this is your holiday, after all. It's Valentine's Day. _Val_entine. Get it? You were destined to suffer per the cosmic irony."

"That is so not funny."

"Of course it is," he said lightly, his demonic voice reverberating through the air in echoes. "Any way that you suffer is funny to me. Especially when you preach to me about the power of love, only to victimize yourself by its principles."

As the woman pulled out her trusty blaster, she made a face. "This isn't love. You try being stalked by an obsessed dude for ten years and see how you like it."

He hummed. "I can't imagine it being much more different than having a crazy woman chase me on a jet sled six days a week."

"Uh, there's a _big _difference," she said shortly, glaring at him. "You keep coming back to my turf for more punishment out of your own free will. I try to avoid this guy, and he keeps finding me no matter where I hide."

Dan sniffed haughtily, as if to dismiss the sound logic of Valerie's response. But his ruby eyes measured her up with a calculation deeper than just nonchalance.

She looked truly more at ease with him than she had several minutes ago, when every line of her body was still tense with her escape from Amity Park. And yet Dan had always been under the impression that he was the most terrifying being in her life. How strange that he felt multiple emotions rise, many of them dark with possession and anger, at the thought that he wasn't her greatest enemy.

He pushed off the rusted beam to stand tall with a rather selfless offer. His eyes glinted with darkness. "If it's still that Nathan kid doing all this, I'll slit his throat for you. Free of charge. My Valentine's Day gift to you."

Shock and surprise flickered across Valerie's dark features. He knew her stalker's name? But then she quickly recovered, glaring. "As much as I know you're really sacrificing yourself for my benefit," she said dryly, "I can handle Nathan on my own."

The powerful ghost grew quite delighted. "I don't think you can," he challenged. "You're too soft. "

"You're just looking for an excuse to kill people." She raised her blaster at him, eyebrow raised. "That's not gonna work, Phantom."

"Oh no?" he said, staring at her. "Why are you protecting him from me? Are you truly not aware of the depths of his own insanity?"

"I'm fully aware."

"And yet you brush off ten years of his stalking like it's nothing. Truly, I'd hate for your stalker to one day snap under the pressure and kill you." He looked mournful. "It would ruin all the wonderful deaths I have planned for you. Slitting Nathan's throat is entirely within your best interests."

"Nathan's _not_ going to kill me in some...weird stalker way," she argued hotly, although the sudden thought struck her uneasily. "And you can't kill me either."

His fingers began to spark with red energy. "Would you like to test that last theory?" he said casually.

In a blur, she raised her blaster and shot at him. He narrowly avoided the blast and flipped back, laughing. "Oh, Valerie," he called to her. "You're just itching for a fight, aren't you?"

"Itching for target practice, more like it." She shot at him again, and he retaliated by shooting back. Valerie easily avoided it.

But instead of irritation, he watched her movements with amusement. He called out, "So if you're here to fight with me on Valentine's Day, does that make me your valentine?"

"No." Her voice was flat as she tracked him with her blaster. "Absolutely not. It just makes you a good distraction from all the other crap in my life."

A wide and mischievous smile split his face. "Oh, I think it makes me your valentine." His eyes grew a bit half-lidded. "_And_ a good distraction."

Her aim faltered.

She swallowed hard, backing away on her jet sled. That look in Phantom's eye was never a good thing for her sanity. "I'm so not in the mood for these kinds of games today," she warned him.

"Then what kind of games are you in the mood for?" he asked impatiently. "Really, Valerie. It's Valentine's Day. Your options are going back to Amity Park to suffer from your groupies, or to stay here with me and suffer under my genius. I'm obviously the better option, in case you can't think this through."

"Of course I can think this through," she snapped, blushing in anger at his insult. "And if you can too, then you should know that the last thing I wanna do is have to put up with your flirting."

He appeared insulted. "After everything I do for you?" he wondered. His bared his fangs with a light snarl. "You're so ungrateful."

She put a hand on her hip. "And what have you ever done for me?"

Dan crossed his arms. "After ten years," he complained, "I would think you know that I always spend Thursdays in the Ghost Zone."

"Yeah?" she challenged. Of course she'd known about his Thursday escapades. "So what?"

"_Today_ is Thursday," he breathed. His fingers and eyes sparked red, although his lips widened with a strange smile. "And yet here I am, breaking up the lovefest from your admirer instead of basking in the terror of my Ghost Zone victims. "

For a time, she still didn't quite get it. Her mind raced with the underlying meaning of his words (he was never quite clear about what he really intended to say). But she knew deep down that the ghost was suggesting he'd sacrificed something personal to save her from a day of hiding from Nathan, despite his previous claims about enjoying her love-based suffering.

It was then that she realized for the first time perhaps Phantom was not the only one who relied upon their fights for…something beyond just Amity Park. Whatever it was.

Meaning? Escape?

Such thinking was a dangerous path to go down. It would mean that Phantom had motives beyond selfish ones. Motives that involved her in an almost-positive way.

She couldn't hide her small blush. "You saying you came here to get me away from Nathan—on purpose?"

The pressure between them began to grow in the silence—the same type of pressure that had begun building its foundations in every second that Dan exhibited human behavior, those split sparks of genuine personality.

Dan's eyes roved over her. He said, avoiding her question, "You should know that sometimes, I really do see you as a deplorable nuisance in my life." He tilted his head. "And other times I don't."

Her fingers paused on her blaster.

In an unexpected flash of light and a powerful push, he suddenly flipped her off of her jet sled. She yelped and she crashed hard onto the ground, stunned by the move. (Had he really just attacked her after complimenting her?)

The force was enough to steal her breath for a second. Her own idiocy made her stall.

(What had she been expecting instead of an attack? A sudden declaration of love? A sappy, Valentine's Day moment where he would maybe surprise her with a kiss on the cheek and a whisper that he hated any man taking her attention away from him?)

And_ why_ did she even want that?

But her misguided fantasy and subsequent identity crisis was broken by Dan's body blocking the view of the winter clouds above her.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he stood before her, smiling cheekily. He leaned over her a bit, leering. "_Val_entine."

In a daze, she gasped for air. Then on pure instinct, she grabbed for the edge of his cape and yanked hard. The collar around his neck cut deep into him, and his red eyes widened at the sudden suffocation, grabbing for the collar. His entire body wrenched sideways as she grabbed higher. Valerie coiled herself, using Dan's imbalanced body as a fulcrum to flip herself up, and he gasped at the hard weight that tore through his neck.

The instant her feet hit the dirt in a solid landing, she stood up tall and released his cape. And she tilted her head a bit, considering Phantom's last words. _Happy Valentine's Day, huh?_

"Why Phantom," she mocked in a false-coo of love, waving at the space between them as the ghost stared at her in awe. "A fight just for me? You didn't have to get me anything for Valentine's Day."

Phantom carefully readjusted the collar of his suit to ensure his cape would not fall off, still intrigued with how quickly she'd turned the tables in her favor. He occasionally forgot that she was a black belt with hand-to-hand combat experience. They usually didn't get so close for that.

Then he turned to her fully, his eyes glinting with too many conflicting emotions. Among them was some kind of respect and appreciation. He called forth his power, and between his fingers bubbled a large surge of blinding light. "Anything for you, _sweetheart_."

* * *

><p>Sometime later that night, after Valerie had returned from the Wastelands with a few new bruises and a pleasant report that she'd beaten Dan back to the Zone, Nathan paced. He was outside the resistance building, contemplating ways to break into Valerie's room through her window. It was cold out, the winter air crisp. But he was truly debating if, what points he lost for property damage, he could make up for in originality.<p>

There were only a few hours left of Valentine's Day. And if he let this day pass, then the magic of the whole day would be lost on Valerie, and he would not be able to capitalize off of her "hard to get" ploys.

Because that's all they were. Just some kind of feminine wiles, surely.

"Gotta get in somehow," he moaned, his mind blitzing with images of _ValerieValerieValerie_. He didn't know how much longer he could take it. The denial was too much. He just had to have her. Somehow. Her window was only a short walk away.

But as he paced along, his breath puffing in the night air, he realized there was a second presence. He looked up, and from out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a man appearing from the mists.

The man walked towards him, a friendly smile on his face. He had dark hair and striking blue eyes. His jeans were faded with the dirt of long travels. His pale skin was nearly a ghostly white, and he appeared relatively unaffected by the bitter cold despite only wearing a leather jacket over his civilian clothing.

"Hey," he called out, "you're Nathan, right?"

"Yes?"

The man neared closer, and he smiled, as if to introduce himself. "Good." Then he pulled his fist back and punched Nathan hard in the face.

Nathan cried out, reeling back and stumbling to the snowy ground, feeling bone and blood explode into a spray of red. His whole body seized under the steel power of the man's fist. "Agh," he cried, voice strangling in a high whimper. He pulled his hands away, terrified at the blood running from his now-broken nose.

Without warning, the man grabbed Nathan's collar and hauled him up. He slammed him against the brick wall of the resistance building. "I've been meaning to have this chat with you."

Nathan winced, his entire body shaking with fear. "W-who are you?" he gasped. "Why would you—?"

"—I'm Valerie's boyfriend," he said pleasantly, a hissing note of fury buzzing beneath his voice. "And I don't share well." He nearly crushed Nathan's windpipe. The smaller man struggled for air beneath the almost-inhuman, steel grip. "I heard you keep giving her grief. Obviously, you pose no threat to me. You disgust Valerie. But she's too nice to put you out of your misery. So I will."

Nathan gasped. "N-no!" He weakly pulled at the man's fingers. "Please! I d-didn't know! I didn't know she had a boyfriend."

The man's blue eyes were like flint, nearly flashing red with their steely anger. "Of course you wouldn't," he said. "Because Valerie doesn't broadcast her love life to every worm like you to know. She's got bigger concerns than herself, which makes her kinda respectable." He snarled. "Unlike you."

Nathan was still seeing stars that were somewhat Valerie-shaped. It was becoming harder to think and focus on reality. His brain was starving for oxygen.

The man jerked him against the brick wall, as if to awaken him. "So here's how this is going to work," he said. "I'll be watching you from now on. If I catch you even looking at her the wrong way, I will hunt you down and kill you."

The lovesick boy nearly collapsed. "B-but…I love her! How can I deny that—?!"

"—You don't love her," the man snarled. Then he released Nathan, who collapsed against the wall. "If you did, you would have listened to her. Now stay out of Valerie's way and don't even think of touching one hair on her head. _Got it, worm_?"

Nathan weakly nodded. It was about all he could do.

Then the man sniffed haughtily, flicked his fingers to rid himself of Nathan's blood, and walked away.

Nathan lay there for some time, gasping, holding onto his red throat, trying to cry while breathing out blood. He turned his head sideways in paranoia to look at the man who had attacked him.

But the mysterious man was gone, the fog misting over the silent city block.

* * *

><p>The next day, and the day after, and even the day after that, Nathan did not bother Valerie. Rather, he freaked into a shuddering horror at the sight of her, and then scuttled along into the shadows, looking over his shoulder. The change was pleasant, if not a bit disconcerting to Valerie.<p>

But she didn't question it. She assumed his swollen and broken nose and increasing interest in turtlenecks was because he had finally pissed off Dash, or some other guy. Nathan was most likely avoiding everyone until he came out of his fear-driven defenses.

It wasn't until days later that she realized what was actually wrong.

A little after 4:00am, she stumbled into the public women's washrooms, still in her pajamas, her hair in a frizz. She had to ready herself for another day of protecting Amity Park, before Phantom himself would come to threaten the Human World in his weekly rounds.

The washroom itself was uninhabited but for one other woman, Paulina, with whom Valerie had been slowly rebuilding a friendship. The Latino woman had become slightly more mature in her years of suffering from material deprivation and hardship—although she still prided herself on her appearance. Paulina leaned towards the large mirror before her as she combed her long, luxurious hair, "So, chika," she said point-blank, without even a greeting. "Time to spill. Who is he?"

Valerie was tired and dazed, and she leaned against the wall, still sore from her fights with Dan Phantom. "Who's who?" she yawned.

"Word's going around that your secret boyfriend beat up Nathan a few nights ago." The Latino woman turned to Valerie, her blue eyes dark with amused betrayal. "I didn't even know you had a secret boyfriend! What's this about, huh?"

Valerie blinked. "My…secret boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Paulina nodded, suspicious. "Dash beat it out of Mikey, who talked to Kwan, who said he patched Nathan up." She poked Valerie's arm with great accusation. "So tell me who this mystery guy is."

Again, Valerie felt nothing if not deep confusion and some kind of horror. "I don't have a secret boyfriend," she said slowly. "And I don't know who beat up Nathan, but it couldn't have been because of me."

Paulina was unconvinced. "Kwan said that Nathan was crying over how this guy threatened him to stay away from you. So don't try to wiggle out of this, chika."

The black woman paled a bit. "You're kidding. What did he look like? Is he part of the resistance? A new stalker or something?"

"Uh, black hair, blue eyes?" Paulina leaned in, eyes sparkling. "Really muscled." She poked Valerie's stomach. "So come on, tell me who he is already. He sounds hot. I wanna know who he is."

The description didn't really match up to anything in her mind. Valerie turned away to pull her ringlet hair back into a ponytail. "I have no idea who this guy is," she said, worried. "Seriously. You have to believe me. Did he give Nathan a name?"

Paulina shook her head. "Just said he was your boyfriend."

Someone began to pound on the door outside of the public washroom. "Valerie?" a man's muffled voice called out. It was her father, who usually woke up even earlier than she did. "Hey, you in there?"

_ Dammit_, she thought with a mental groan. Then she called back, "Yeah? What's up?"

"We've got a visitor from outside the Shield. Says he's here to see you."

Her face twisted in surprise. "At this hour? If it's another resistance delegate, can't you handle it?"

"He says he doesn't represent any of the resistance factions. Just a drifter. He calls himself an old friend of yours, from back in the day. Whenever you're ready, we'll be waiting for you in my office."

Valerie looked to Paulina, who stared back with a raised brow.

"Is this your _secret _boyfriend, maybe?" Paulina asked, her accented voice tinged with gossipy potential.

"Dammit, Paulina. I don't have a boyfriend." Valerie quickly combed her frizzy hair back into a ponytail (just in case maybe there really was someone she knew from her past). "It's probably just…I dunno. Somebody."

The vagueness of it all was starting to bother her. Who did she know from the other resistance circles on earth who would come by to visit her so urgently in the morning?

She quickly shed her pajamas and donned her military fatigues. "Maybe it's someone from the weapons advancement team in Russia," she wondered out loud. "I've been waiting on some schematics from them."

"Your papa said he wasn't representing a faction," Paulina pointed out dryly. "So no Russia."

Valerie made a face. "Well, he has to be from somewhere, right?"

The Latino woman just smiled. "Like your _past_?"

* * *

><p>In short order, Valerie quickly raced through the resistance building. Her curiosity was mounting. Who was this strange visitor? Did he have anything to do with the attack on Nathan? Was everything just coincidence?<p>

She approached her father's office, which was located not far from the main entrance. She pushed open the door, expecting the mystery man to be sitting opposite her father.

But no one aside from her father was there.

"Uh, Daddy?" she called out, eyebrows furrowing. "Where is he?"

"He stepped outside to smoke," Damien Gray said, not even looking up from his paperwork. "A bad habit for such a charming man."

At least her father did not seem too alarmed by this individual, if that were any indication. She asked, "You guys talked? What was his name?"

"He said his nickname was 'D,'" Damien said casually. "Now go on, dear. You've kept him waiting long enough. He indicated that speaking with you was urgent."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah." The name 'D' didn't sound familiar. She supposed that was both comforting and terrifying. Without further ado, she turned away from the office and towards the main entrance of the building, where the huge double doors led to the outside world.

She opened the doors, and a blast of cold air struck her. "Jesus," she gasped. Her military uniform was not thick enough to stave off the February weather. "Freaking cold out here!"

Valerie wrapped her arms around herself instinctively. She thought as she narrowed her eyes, _How the hell can anyone stand to be out here?_

And then she saw him.

A man in jeans, combat boots, and a black leather jacket stood at the foot of the steps, turned towards her. A burning cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. And he looked almost like a human version of one Dan Phantom.

She froze.

He smiled, an all-too familiar smirk darkening his features. "…Hello, Valerie."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _So happy late Valentine's Day, everyone! This was my attempt to write a simple holiday-based one-shot, but as I was writing Dan, he derailed it for his own purposes. (By the way, the nickname "D" is actually a reference to Vampire Hunter D.)_

_I'm not sure if this storyline deserves expansion, but I figured I hadn't really tackled this kind of plot before. This chapter, alongside some other one-shots like Lunch Time, assumes that Amity Park is not the only surviving city in the TUE universe. This chapter also assumes that Dan can mimic an adult human form __(as in the actual TUE episode, he was able to shape-shift back into a human-looking 14 year old Danny) __and somehow get through the Ghost Shield. At the least, I don't think it's too far of a stretch that he could use a human form/illusion to trick people into a false sense of security (and perhaps even letting him through the Shield?). Regardless, I do hope you enjoyed this mess of an update. :) _

_Please let me know your thoughts, questions, suggestions, and requests! Should I continue this particular storyline? Thanks! _


	21. Dan's Secret VALentine Plans Part 2

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Invader Johnny, Little Missy, Gerren, Domination of the World, mzscarlettstarlet, Crystalmoon39, Bree, BatWingteenavenger, ZoneRobotnik, Silverstone007, Askioelsi, Trish, SweetestChick, Cookieplzandthnx, ShadowYashi, and too enigmatic 2 b urs for reviewing last time!_

_**Askioelsi:**__ Thanks for reviewing! Based on your review, I didn't know which month your birthday's in. But I will try to have an update for Aftermath for you soon, once this Valentine thread is complete. _

_**Little Missy:**__ Good question! In the canon episode The Ultimate Enemy, Dan Phantom was able to shapeshift into the image of 14-year-old, human Danny. So we know he can take on a human illusion. What this story assumes, however, is that he can take an adult human form. Which I honestly don't know for sure that he can do, but I enjoy the concept of. Hope that helps! _

_Enough people asked for this concept to be expanded, so here's a part two! _

_**Summary:**__ Dan's Secret VALentine Plans (Part Two): Dan uses a familiar human appearance to "spend more time" with Valerie, and to keep her safe from her stalker. Chaos and adult-type touching ensues. Rating: T, Genre: Romance/humor_

* * *

><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 21: Dan's Secret VALentine Plans: Part Two**

* * *

><p>Valerie's immediate response to Dan's false-human appearance was to conjure her battle suit. Tight circuitry and advanced weapons systems wove over her body, locking into place. Within seconds, she stood before him in her sleek armor. The edges glinted harshly in the fluorescent street lamps.<p>

"You." The word strangled from her mouth. She'd known for some time about Dan's real past, but it was painful to think of. She usually tried to forget it. And yet, now he stood before her, shape-shifted to mimic his old skin. Her heart pounded in deep fear. "How did—How did you get in here?!"

Alarms were firing in her mind. _Oh my god. Oh my God._ _Dan is on my fucking front step. Holy shit. _She raised her hand, prepared to fire off several rounds of explosives from the reserves in her arm sleeves.

Phantom inhaled deep on his cigarette, closing his eyes. Then he breathed out the smoke, and it puffed along the winter wind in tendrils. "Do you like this disguise?" he asked, avoiding her questions. "I have appropriated the stereotypical 'bad boy' image, which I thought would be most advantageous for this stretch of our chess game. Truly, any boyfriend of Valerie Gray the Ghost Slayer would be just as misguided as she is."

For a time, she simply stood there—in awe or horror, she didn't know. She had not seen Phantom take on a human image for years. His black hair was much longer now, pulled back in a messy ponytail that ended at his shoulder-blades. The wind had pulled loose several strands, whipping them about not unlike his usual fire hair. His blue eyes nearly glowed. His toned body filled out the lines of his leather jacket and jeans in ways that belied the danger beneath.

This was what Danny Fenton would have looked like, had he lived. But his face was twisted with too much calculation and arrogance. The way he carried himself oozed with some kind of inhuman darkness. And that damn cigarette, jauntily tilting from his lips—Danny had never smoked.

"Where the hell did you even get that outfit?" she demanded.

He smiled. "Stole it off some soldier a long time ago. Lucky me, he even had the cigarettes with him."

Something about that sparked deep anger in Valerie, overriding her fear. She stomped forward and pulled the cigarette from his mouth without so much of a warning. "You are desecrating Danny's image," she spat, furious. She threw the burning cigarette onto the snowy concrete. "Stop playing pretend and change back. Now."

He looked down at the cigarette, the spark of which had sputtered out. "I was using that to raise my core temperature," he pouted. "Do you even understand how difficult it is to fake human warmth?"

"No, and I don't care," she hissed. "Change back."

He leaned forward to close the space between them, blue eyes glinting dark. "Absolutely not," he said. "Valerie Gray has a boyfriend from beyond the Shield, whom everyone is talking about. She also has a stalker, whom this boyfriend attacked. I have appropriated Fenton's image again so that I may save you from several…concerning social issues."

She looked somewhat horrified and tongue-tied. "You are _not_ my boyfriend."

Was Dan Phantom really standing there in a human disguise.…Calling himself her _boyfriend_?

He gently grabbed onto one of her armored hands, sinking his strong fingers between hers and tightening his grip. She nearly flinched in surprise. "You did date Danny Fenton for a while, so it's not entirely a lie. And if I played the concerned family friend," he said, "then my disguise would be less fun." He pulled her closer and whispered, "We wouldn't be able to touch each other like how I know we want to."

Her face flushed a deep red. She backed up and snatched her hand away, despite the strange skip of her heart. "Stop it," she said, voice hard. "This isn't funny."

His thin lips spread wide again. Although his voice had lost its ghostly echo, the deep baritone of his voice still rumbled through her in ways nothing else could. "I suppose not. But your blush is."

If it were possible, her blush deepened and spread over her whole skin. She was thankful she wore her battle suit to hide most of herself from him, because she was sure he would laugh and mock her for her "innocent" reactions. So before they dived down an even more awkward argument, she switched subjects and demanded, "You never answered my question, you know. About how you got in here. The Shield should have stopped you, cause there's no way you can hide your ecto-signature."

Dan smiled cheekily. He rummaged in his coat pocket for a lighter and another cigarette, which he carelessly lit, as if he'd had a lot of practice. "Our close combat encounters over the last days gave me an advantage. Notice anything different about your suit since last week?"

Cold, wavering horror began to seep into her. She quickly glanced down at herself, turning her arms sideways to glance at the circuits. "No?"

He boasted, "I gave your suit an upgrade with a little device. It emits a frequency that interrupts Amity Park's ability to recognize my ectoplasmic signature. Try behind your neck."

The cold horror within her bloomed into full terror. Her shaking fingers reached up to the base of her neck, and some part of her nearly cried when she felt an uneven bump, right at the lines between the suit's panels. "What the—?"

She pulled it away, and then she stared at it in awe. It was a simple circuit the size of a quarter, painted black to blend in with her armor. But its design was entirely foreign.

Her breath hitched as she crushed it in her armored hand. Then she allowed the broken circuit to fall to the ground, where it sizzled against the snow. She looked horrified. "Oh my god. Oh my god."

Dan laughed. "By now, that virus has been uploaded to all of Amity Park's systems. You'd have to offline your entire defense protocols, including the Shield, to reset it." He looked over at her lazily. He dragged on his cigarette again, even though it did little more than puff hot air into him. His lungs were already dead. "Did you know I have an army in the Zone on standby to attack the very instant you turn off the Shield?"

She nearly hyperventilated. "What the—how the hell could—?!" Words failed her. She suddenly felt as if the man before her was a stranger. Dan must have been planning this for a long, long time. Learning source code here and there. Stealing technology on the side. All of their daily fights were just fronts for a deeper, more insidious war—in which he now stood as the veritable Trojan horse to take Amity Park down from the inside.

(When had Dan ever worked with other ghosts? Had the Fright Knight finally decided to serve him? When had Dan learned to hack?!)

She suddenly felt horribly violated and naked in her battle suit. He'd ultimately crippled Amity Park's defenses through her. "Y-you…"

"Check and mate," he said, blue eyes twinkling with great excitement as he watched her melt down. "Nothing like a little fun behind enemy lines to spice up the war, huh?"

Her fingers shook as she grabbed the blaster at her hip and raised the barrel to his heart. "I'll tell everyone who you are," she promised, voice wavering. "I'll destroy you before you can shed that skin."

He laughed genuinely. "Then I will simply retaliate in kind against your precious town. Mutually assured destruction." He breathed in the toxins from his cigarette. Heat rushed through him again in a way that nearly made him smile. "As it stands, my motives are not to destroy Amity Park. So you would do well to let me walk among you and complete my business."

For a time, she maintained her blaster level at his chest, knowing instinctively that it would not stop him. She also knew she could not risk angering him into attacking. While Dan Phantom was rarely ever explicit in his meanings, he was usually true to the motives he expressed. And he was right—he appeared entirely unconcerned with everything but her. She asked slowly as she lowered her blaster, "And what is your business here?"

"Don't look so terrified. This is all for your benefit."

"Like _what _benefit?" she demanded. "Besides giving me a heart attack?"

He huffed, "I need to mitigate your life issues and maximize your time spent fighting me. I do know that one of the issues in my way is Nathan's obsession with you."

In other words, Phantom was suggesting he actually had her in mind. It was not unlike Valentine's Day, when he had sacrificed his time so that she could fight him instead of fighting off Nathan. She swallowed hard. "You're here to destroy Amity Park. This has nothing to do with me. Or Nathan."

He smiled something terrible. "Valerie, you must understand. I am immortal. I_ will_ conquer Amity Park one day, if not simply because you are so finite. But for now, I appreciate your mildly amusing attempts to stop me." Some kind of sadness overcame him. "I'll have no one to banter with after you die. Which is why I became quite concerned when I realized that much of your time here in Amity Park is spent not thinking about me and our games, but avoiding one Nathan Green."

Her eyes narrowed. "Between the egotistical narcissism and monologuing, I could've sworn I heard _concern_. That's rich, coming from you."

He stepped forward, ignoring the insult. He said in great seriousness, "You fear your pathetic stalker more than you fear me. I never realized this until last Valentine's Day. But it's true, isn't it?" He threw his cigarette to the ground, his eyes remaining locked with hers.

"You're littering," Valerie pointed out.

"So did you. And you're avoiding my question."

"Your question sounded rhetorical."

He crossed his arms, raising a brow. "Which means that you _are _quite terrified of your stalker."

Valerie began to feel boxed by the truth and the ever-enclosing circle of their argument. Her eye twitched. "Look, I don't know why you're so 'concerned' for me, but I can handle—!"

He moved closer, physically gaining ground against her. "—And I don't think you realize how dangerous it is to allow someone to stalk you for ten years. You have insects here who want to hurt you in ways I never would, to hide you away for their own purposes. I can't allow anyone to interrupt our chess game and kill you before your time." His face shadowed a bit with some kind of psychotic anger. "No one can steal you from me. Especially not someone like Nathan."

She backed away. "I'm not yours."

Dan ignored her. "And how long?" he demanded. "How long before he would have snapped? In time, he would have lost control. And with your morality, you would have let Nathan kill you."

"No, he wouldn't!"

"You have no idea how obsessions work," the ghost said dryly. "Take my word for it, they define your life. You breathe for them." He crossed his arms, his face twisting a bit darker. "Even though I have temporarily…convinced Nathan otherwise, he will return to his ways without my presence to remind him."

The concept was one that placed an inkling of fear back into Valerie. "I don't need you to fight my battles for me," she said, voice rising.

"Don't you want your stalker to leave you alone forever?" he asked.

She did. He saw her hesitance. "Then let me help you. Play along with me," he tempted. "Together, we'll stop Nathan for good—if he's smart, he'll learn to leave you alone. If he's not smart, then I _will_ ensure that you enforce measures against him." He smiled evilly. "Or I'll enforce those measures for you."

She huffed a bit, feeling fully caged. The options were few, considering Phantom was oddly adamant on helping her. She supposed she could give in, especially since telling Nathan "no" and threatening restraining orders hadn't worked. She rubbed her temples with her hand. "I don't trust you," she said flatly.

"I'm already here," he laughed lightly. "And yet your town still stands. I entered the resistance, and yet the building remains unharmed. I faced your father earlier, and he not only continues to live, but he enjoyed my presence. No one will know the truth."

She paused, feeling trapped. She began to quickly weigh and measure the consequences. Was there a downside to this? If she allowed him to parade about as her boyfriend, would she suffer under it somehow? If he pretended to be her boyfriend, would he try to kiss her, touch her?

…And would that be so bad, considering how much she thought of it anyways?

"Come on, Val," he tempted. "I'll be on my _best_ behavior. If we both play our parts, we'll both get what we want. I won't even kill anyone." The psychotic darkness that covered him began to lighten with a bright smile. "Why, I can even deceive people into thinking I'm quite charming."

She hesitated, and she stared at him for a long, long time. The resolve upon her face began to visibly wear down. Defeat and tiredness began to creep into her face and the lowering, protective stance of her shoulders.

Dammit, she really _did_ want to stop Nathan for good. Pretending to have a boyfriend around would dash his hopes and make him finally believe that he wasn't the one for her. And something about using Dan—

It made her heart pound, but not in fear. She'd always remained lightly attracted to him, even after he'd gone insane. And maybe this situation had more advantages than he had described. He would have to submit to normal human morality and culture, if only for a time. Maybe she could convince him to…enjoy it? To see that Amity Park was worth saving? That maybe their chess games could morph into something more of a positive rivalry? (With some added benefits?)

She pointed her finger at him. "You gotta swear you won't try anything funny."

Dan's face split into a wide, dark grin.

* * *

><p>As they entered back into the resistance building, Dan passed by the multiple cameras and ecto-sensors (technology designed mostly for him) without one blip of suspicion.<p>

Valerie felt apprehensive. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she breathed as her armor retracted, exposing her military fatigues—her unarmored body. Everything was real. Dan wasn't attacking her or anything else. The virus he had uploaded was everywhere. Her heart was beginning to pound harder.

"Believe it, Valerie." He intertwined his fingers with hers and squeezed. It was not unpleasant to feel the cool of his calloused skin against hers. "If you don't, Nathan won't either."

She looked down at their hands and blushed. "It's just…weird," she complained. She'd never really held hands with anyone since the last time she'd held hands with one Danny Fenton. Whose dead body was now back to haunt her.

She suddenly worried that could feel her heart pounding through her hand.

He looked at her, his blue eyes deceptively innocent. "Then perhaps we should practice being believable," he asked. "Since your long-lost lover has come to visit you, I would think you'd be ecstatic enough to kiss him. And yet you look quite displeased."

She set her jaw. He was toying with her and probably trying to manipulate her into giving him some action as compensation for his time. She snatched her hand back and continued walking forward without him. If he wanted to play like they were really dating, then… "No. I'm still mad at you for beating up someone and then not telling me you were in Amity Park _days _ago. So if you want me to act 'ecstatic' for you, you'll have to work for it."

He blinked, surprised. He'd been expecting her to flat out deny him any chance. She'd just insinuated otherwise.

Valerie looked back at him with a glint in her eye.

Then a great attraction overcame him as he realized that Valerie had just begun to truly play along. "Oh," he said. He smiled something devilish as he began to catch up with her, walking alongside her. "So if you're mad at me now, then this just means we'll have makeup sex later, right?"

"No."

"I bet 'D' and Val would have great makeup sex," Dan said, as if fascinated by the thought, scratching his chin. "Especially if they fought often, as we so often do."

She blushed angrily, looking around to make sure no one was listening or wandering around where they could hear. "Stop," she said.

"What?" he said innocently. "I'm just trying to get our stories straight. I'm _analyzing_ our relationship."

"We don't have a real relationship to analyze," she snapped.

"Oh, but we did," he said. "We've just been estranged for a while. Conflicting life interests, apocalypse stuff, you know." He grabbed onto her hand, intertwining his bare fingers with hers again. "But 'D' realized he couldn't live without you. And he got very, very jealous when he learned that other men were trying to steal his girl."

"I'm not yours."

"D has to win you back, of course. You'd broken up with him, per the aforementioned life conflicts."

"You are referring to yourself in third person, and it's weird."

"…My temporary identity of 'bad boy with good heart' is in conflict with my worldview." He sniffed. "This is how I keep my sanity in such trying times."

"Uh, you don't have sanity," she deadpanned. "Ever."

Suddenly, he spun her around against one of the pillars and pressed himself against her. "No," he admitted, warm breath mixing with hers. She'd frozen, eyes wide at his actions, but she did not flinch away. He leaned against her, his blue eyes glinting dark as he smiled. "And I love that you know me so well."

She breathed shakily, trying to fight off the conflicting instincts of kicking him off and pulling him closer. She whispered, voice wavering, "The hell are you _doing_?" She looked to the side, blushing with great paranoia that someone would see them like this. Anybody could walk down the hall at any time.

He gently turned her chin so that she faced him. "I think I'd rather like to kiss you," he whispered back. Scant inches were between them. "Practice, you know. For when we really do have an audience."

Valerie swallowed hard. Her heart was racing even harder now. Dan's hand was resting on the swell of her hips, while the other still gently caressed her jaw line. A large part of her wanted him to kiss her, and the feeling was beginning to spread down her belly. "I, uh…I—"

Suddenly, a new voice interrupted them.

"…Valerie?"

At the sound of another voice, she startled away, pushing Dan back. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed. "Uh—!"

Her father stood towards the end of the hall, arms crossed.

Although Damien Gray wore an eye-patch, his one good eye was narrowed in a mix between good-natured humor and fatherly concern. He looked to Dan and called, "Don't get too fresh with my daughter now, or we're gonna have a much different talk, ya hear?"

For a second, Dan looked greatly irritated by the intrusion. His blue eyes nearly bled red. But then he turned around to face the father, and he jauntily saluted. "I look forward to that talk, then." His smile suggested he would very much get fresh with Valerie. Perhaps in ways that would redefine "fresh" for future generations.

Damien grunted in displeasure, but then some kind of old humor won out over his concern, for he knew his daughter could handle herself. "Well, I was about to offer you a tour of the place. But I see that Valerie is already acquainting you quite well with the main entrance." He gave her a pointed look that made her blush harder. "Dear, why don't you show him around like an actual guest and save the romance for somewhere behind closed doors?"

Valerie stood there, gaping. "Uh, y-yeah. Sure."

The father eyed Dan once more, as if to measure his intentions, and then began to walk back to his office, feeling too awkwardly old to be so protective over his now-grown daughter. Eventually, his door opened and closed, and they were again the only two people in the main hall.

They stood there in silence, both still surprised at being caught in the middle of an almost-intimate moment.

"…I think he likes me," Dan said with a solid nod.

Valerie jabbed him with her elbow. "He shouldn't," she said, voice still strangled.

"Don't worry," he readjusted his leather jacket with a signature smile. "I've already established trust with him, so I'm sure his concern is minimal at best. When we spoke previously, your father seemed quite ecstatic that I'd punched Nathan in the face."

Valerie face faulted. "He's not supposed to approve of that kind of stuff," she grumbled under her breath. Damn her father. Now Dan would likely attach to such approval.

As suspected, he did. "And what a delightful thing the human justice system is," he said. "If your father agreed with me on more things, perhaps I would not hate him so."

"Even if my dad's overprotective of me, which clouds his judgment," Valerie said, voice flat, "you know he doesn't approve of how Phantom killed half the world population and _continues to terrorize_ everyone's who left."

"A truly unfortunate situation," he sniffed, although no concern wavered in his voice. "If only the rest of the world were dead; they would no longer feel terrorized."

Valerie glared at him. "You're horrible."

"But I should like to keep you alive," he corrected himself. "Everyone else can die. Except you."

Something about that made her want to laugh or cry.

* * *

><p>As Valerie led Dan through the main hall and to the various commonplace areas, they continued to banter back and forth in their usual, married-couple way. Some part of Valerie felt suffocated by the attraction she couldn't shake since he had leaned her against the pillar and nearly kissed her. It made her more grouchy and snappish, especially when he reminded her that he was in fact an arch villain out to destroy the world.<p>

Dan seemed to enjoy her discomfort.

"Why don't you show me behind the scenes?" he complained. "You know, where you hide all the experimental technology that you hope to stop me with?"

Valerie rolled her eyes. Then she smiled a painfully false smile. "Oh no. It appears that 'D' doesn't have the security clearance necessary for that kind of tour."

"And how do I get that security clearance?"

"You don't."

"I could probably forge something."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," she promised, voice hard. "And even if you tried to forge something, I could reset those codes without turning off the Shield."

Check and mate. He frowned a bit, realizing he'd lost a small battle. But then his eyes glinted with a new idea. "Then how about a different kind of tour? Can I get a tour of Valerie Gray?"

"…A tour _of_…?"

"As she's going to be a large part of my life during my stay, I'd like to understand her more." He smiled lazily. "And I'd like to get more acquainted with all of her high-security areas so that I can…better navigate under the circumstances."

She flushed and turned away to hide the red of her face. "You just want to get in my pants so you can take over the resistance."

"Did I _say_ anything about pants? Tsk, tsk, Valerie. You dirty mind, you."

She spun on her heels and poked him in the chest, face flaming with a blush that would not end. "That's entrapment, and you know it. What am I supposed to think when you talk about 'high-security areas'?!"

He eyed her. Then he smiled, his eyes falling down to her chest.

Her eye twitched. She shoved him away, and he laughed, the baritone sound a pleasant ring against the walls. For the first time ever, the sound was completely genuine and without darker motive.

He leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows. "Does anyone else have access to these…high-security areas?" he asked seriously.

"No."

"Has anyone previously had access?"

She hid her face in her hands and groaned. "Oh my god. I think I preferred you more when you were trying to kill me."

"So, that's a no, then." He looked at her with great desire, realizing that this woman before him had never been with a man. "Oh, Valerie. You have no idea how sexy that is."

A strangled noise, like something between a huff and a scream, escaped her throat. She felt she would melt out of embarrassment. The last thing she wanted was to give Dan one more reason to tease her, especially because her heart was already pounding out of her chest. "Seriously, stop. Or I will shoot you point-blank, and it'll ruin everything."

He smiled. A worked-up Valerie was fun to mess with, and a blushing Valerie was even better. "Well," he said, scratching his chin, "I guess this means 'D' and Val have never had makeup sex, then. That's something we'll have to put on our list of things to practice. You know," he tilted his head, "once D gets that high-security clearance."

She gaped at him. She'd blushed harder in ten minutes than she had her entire life. Surely, this was a new kind of warfare that he was experimenting with on her. She clenched her fists, her nose scrunching in disgust to hide the traitorous sparks of her mind that were actively creating an image of him and her on a bed and his hands—

"—You're not gonna get that kind of clearance," she promised him, eyeing him and trying desperately to remember, _That face and body is a lie. His flirting is a lie. Dan wants to kill everyone. He doesn't really want you._ _He just wants to use you. _

_ Now I'm talking to myself. Dammit. _

He leaned in merrily. "Then it looks like I'll just have to work for that clearance and—"

"—Ooh, is this the secret _boyfriend_?!" called out a heavily accented, nasal voice that was rapidly growing louder, along with footsteps.

For a second, they both froze.

Dan's face faulted. He was quickly learning that privacy did not exist within the Resistance, which was an excessively irritating concept. He turned around to see a tall Latino woman with black hair and blue eyes. Although she wore similar military fatigues as Valerie, she'd pulled up the arms and stomach to show off her skin, as per usual.

The infamous Paulina Sanchez.

Valerie looked terrified, as if she'd been caught doing something horrific. "Uh, h-hey, Paulina."

"You know," the woman called out, her voice loud and excited, "your boy toy kinda looks like that Fenton kid before he died!" She eyed him up and down as she walked up to them, then smiled sweetly. "But much better. And way less nerdy."

Dan sniffed, disinterested and irritated by the reference to his past. "He was my cousin," he lied smoothly.

Paulina gazed at him in awe. "How could that family ever have someone like you in their genes?"

"…We didn't talk much."

The Latino woman turned to Valerie and whined, "Chika, why did you not tell me he was so _caliente_? Is that why you didn't talk about him?!"

Dan's face twisted with legitimate confusion. "…_Caliente_?" he whispered to Valerie out of the side of his mouth.

"It means hot," Valerie said, voice flat, arms crossed.

"Oh." Dan suddenly looked pleased. "Well, then. I approve of this title." He smiled back at Paulina disarmingly. "I'm D."

"Just D?"

His pleased expression faltered at the thought of having to repeat himself to educate the bimbo. "…Just D."

Paulina gave him another look. "Kinda makes sense with the leather jacket and all," she said slowly. "You've got that dangerous streak to you."

Something about that upticked Dan's lips. "I do enjoy danger."

"What kind of danger?"

"Usually the life-threatening kind."

The woman smiled. "Ooh, I felt the bad boy vibes off that."

Valerie narrowed her eyes at the way that Paulina was circling Dan with a predatory look. "Are you done looking at him like a piece of meat?" she asked, voice carrying an unnatural edge. "Seriously, we got better things to do."

The other woman rolled her eyes playfully and whined, "_Chika_, I'm checking out the merchandise. I have to make sure he's up to standard for you."

He looked over at Valerie and realized that her face was twisted with something he had not seen on her before. It was a dark look, pointed at Paulina moreso than himself. Was it jealousy?

His blue eyes glinted. Oh. He could have fun with this.

And so he turned to Paulina, suddenly giving her more attention. He flexed his bicep, his steel muscles bulging against the leather sleeve of his jacket to strain the seams. "Is this up to standard?"

Valerie's eye twitched.

"Ooh, you're so strong _and_ handsome!" Paulina cooed, her lithe fingers reaching out to touch his arm. "I bet you could give Valerie a good time." Then she pulled away, wagging a finger at him and raising her eyebrow. "But I know you bad boy types. Do you treat her right? Make her feel loved? As her friend, I'm obligated to interrogate you and ask you about your history."

Dan pouted, making his hardened lines more sultry and vulnerable. Paulina nearly melted at the sight despite her attempts to fight it. "She hardly treats _me_ right," he complained. "Ten years ago, she broke up with me so she could fight Phantom without ties. I had to move away just to deal. But we've…stayed in contact. So I decided to travel halfway across the country to see her again and patch things up for real, and she's still angry with me because I had a run-in with her old stalker. I can't win no matter what I do."

Paulina then turned to Valerie and asked in shock, "How can you possibly be angry with this hot mess? Especially since you broke his heart but he still braved the Wastelands and stood up for you!" Her whine was high-pitched enough to make even Dan wince.

Valerie crossed her arms and said, voice dry, "I'm mad cause he thinks he can just waltz right back into my life and _beat people_ up in my name."

Her heart felt uneasy. Dan's lie of a past was based off of a lot of truth. She had originally chosen to break up with Danny Fenton to keep him safe. Apparently, from himself. Which hadn't worked.

Surely, he was making some kind of underhanded point with all of this.

Dan simply shrugged. "At least I didn't kill your stalker," he said. And then he rummaged through his pocket to find his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. If he waited too long, his ghost temperature would begin to leech out at more noticeable chills. He tilted the cigarette a bit between his lips, smiling wide at Valerie. "Just trying to watch out for you. If you won't stand up for yourself, then I will."

That did it. Paulina suddenly had stars in her eyes. "I officially approve of you. You have no idea how much of a problem Nathan's been. Oh my god, there was one time that we were washing up at night and—"

"—He does _not_ need to know that," Valerie hissed, stepping forward to pull Dan away from Paulina.

"I believe I_ should_ know," he said, offended and lightly trying to pull his elbow from her vice-like grip. "Nathan was already lurking outside of Val's window when I found him. I'm quite interested to know what else he's done."

Something odd dropped into Valerie's stomach. _My window?_ She hadn't known that. "…It doesn't matter," she said quickly, pulling him along.

"I believe it does," he said, voice growing hard. He began to resist her, for he realized he could learn quite a bit about Valerie's life through this bimbo who couldn't keep a secret if she tried. Perhaps that's why Valerie was so intent on dragging him away. "Paulina, right? Tell me more about what Nathan's done."

Valerie began to drag him harder. "Seriously," she said, voice raising between a complaint and a beg. "Drop it."

Her sudden noncompliance made him irritated. He could not afford to miss out on gaining information, and so his eyes flashed red quickly before settling back to baby blue.

Within seconds, chaos broke loose.

Valerie's Phantom Tracker, which manifested as a slim bracelet on her wrist when not in battle suit mode, began to beep. Valerie blinked in surprise and then looked down, instinctively pushing the button. A small, LED screen expanded across her arm. The blinking coordinates and ectoplasmic levels were suggesting that _Dan Phantom_ had tripped the perimeter sensors of a distant town, known as Jasper.

She looked up and gasped. "That's impossible. But you're—!"

"—Perfectly capable of behaving myself while you run off to save the world." He smiled something sneaky. "With our past, I know better than to keep you from your favorite hobby."

Valerie gaped at him. How was he doing that when he was standing right in front of her?

The beeping began to grow louder, picking up significant ectoplasmic outputs. She looked down and cursed. Whatever was happening, Dan was actively attacking Jasper city—a town without as strong of a shield to protect it.

"I gotta go and stop this," she said hurriedly, voice rough with frustration. With a groan, she called forth her battle suit. The familiar, sleek panels stretched over her skin and curves, locking into place. She gave Dan a pointed look. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"I'm never stupid, Valerie."

"And you." She pointed at Paulina. "Don't tell him anything."

Her friend rolled her eyes lovingly. "I'll try not to."

"Good." And then she jumped into the air, and the nanoparticles of her jet sled solidified beneath her. The whine of the circuits echoed into the air as she stormed off in a metallic whirl, heading for the main exit out. The exhaust from the jet sled ruffled their clothes.

And the hall fell silent.

The instant Valerie was gone from sight, Dan turned to Paulina. "So. Tell me everything I should know about this Nathan kid."

She smiled sweetly, enraptured by the concept of this dark knight sweeping in to save his old flame. Valerie desperately needed someone who could keep an eye out for her. "Anything you want, sweetheart. Just don't let Valerie know that I told you."

"Deal."

* * *

><p><em> Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. <em>

Several other curse words and impressive strands of insults ran through Valerie's head as she grumbled. "How the hell does he do this?" She was racing over the Wastelands at top speed, her body curled in on itself to streamline through the winds. "He's such a…freakin' pain in the ass!"

In truth, most of her anger came not from having to fight, but from the fact that this was all a distraction so Dan could learn her secrets and everything she hadn't told him about Nathan's, er, obsession. And then there was the whole "showing off in front of Paulina" thing that made her blood boil. And the way he'd tried to gain the sympathy vote by making her seem like a total bitch—!

"That jerk," she seethed. At this rate, all of her friends would take his side. But she supposed she couldn't think too hard on it. Currently, Dan Phantom was complicating her life in a more serious way.

As she sped over the land, she realized that Jasper city's shield was down, and above the chaos was one Dan Phantom, casually blasting at the skyscrapers.

"Of course," she groaned, eyes wide. "Of course he'd try killing people today."

The city of Jasper, a poorer town still perfecting its shield, was often a victim of Phantom's rampages. He usually attacked it out of boredom or some need to fulfill a bloodlust, for Jasper city had no ghost hunters half as competent as Valerie Gray. They were therefore something of a protectorate of the stronger Amity Park, which meant Valerie had a responsibility to protect them too.

The image that was Dan Phantom in full ghost glory looked up as she appeared on the horizon. "Did you forget I can clone myself?" he called to her in amusement.

Valerie blushed at her oversight as she leveled a blaster at him. "That doesn't make me feel any better with leaving you alone back at the resistance. "

"Aww, worried I'll get lonely?"

"No—just worried you'll kill someone."

"Well, we all have our appearances to keep up," he said, waving a hand around them. Below him, crowds of humans screamed and cried at their decimated shield, and they flailed about for safety within the rubble and below-ground transport pods. "You should know that restraining my homicidal tendencies for several hours on end and working to gain the approval of your friends has made me feel quite constricted." His palms began to glow, as did his eyes. "I could use a little exercise."

"By exercise, do you mean me kicking your ass? Cause trust me, buddy: you've been asking for it all morning."

He smiled too wide and tilted his head. "And how can I further elicit your anger?" he pondered lightly. "Try to get my death count up—or just generally soak in the fear of my victims? I'd like your opinion, so that I may infuriate you more."

Her blaster began to whine up. "I don't get this. How the hell can you float there and flirt with me and have a clone _gossiping_ with my friend—I'm still pissed about that, by the way—and yet you still shoot people up like they're nothing, just to create a distraction?"

"Our personal situation is irrelevant," he said casually. "You're not like the rest of humanity." He waved below at the now-silent streets of Jasper. "These are insects to be eradicated. Pawns in our chess game. Expendable resources."

She gave him a hard look. His own sickening worldview was one reason why she had never allowed herself to feel much for him. "Phantom, those people have value too. Maybe they can't play your stupid chess games, but each one has someone who cares about them. Each person is irreplaceable."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Not the preaching again—we covered this years ago. You can't change me."

She nearly groaned at his stubbornness. Maybe it was time to switch up tactics and throw a hard ball of her own. "I know. But you infiltrated my town just so you could stop Nathan from stalking me. You said you didn't want me to die before my time." She stared at him, eyes hard. "That means you've put some kind of value on my life, right?"

He narrowed his gaze and then nodded slowly. It suddenly fell silent between them with an unspeakable pressure.

He realized for the first time that perhaps his desire to rid Valerie of Nathan had exposed something about himself. Which was a dangerous and terrifying thought.

"So say I died tomorrow." She kept her blaster raised at him. "Say I broke my own neck flying on my jet sled. What would you do?"

His face twitched. He looked excessively uncomfortable with her questions, and he began to back away. "You will not die on your jet sled," he said, voice slow and strangled. "Your battle suit is damn near indestructible and designed to protect you."

He was missing the point. And so she did something entirely unprecedented in battle. With a hard swallow, she lowered her blaster and re-holstered it on her thigh. Then she recalled her battle suit. The panels swept back, and her visor disintegrated back into nanoparticles in her bloodstream until she stood on her jet sled in her plain, military outfit. She crossed her arms.

Dan's eyes tightened. Suddenly, he was looking at her vulnerable body, and the way she was tilted precariously on her jet sled. They were floating high above even the skyscrapers. If she fell, she'd die.

"You said it yourself," she said. "I'm gonna die someday. So what would you do if I died right now?"

Her question brought forth strange emotions. Dan felt constricted by them. His mind was conjuring images of a world without Valerie Gray, and it felt aimless. His own power core flicked in hesitance at the thought.

Feeling adventurous and a bit wicked, Valerie forced one of her feet to slip from her jet sled. The jet sled swung hard at the imbalance, and with a half-real yelp, she fell back in the open air—the world spinning in angles and lights, her ringlet hair flying up in rays, her life tumbling towards the earth—

In a blur, he stormed for her, grabbing onto her body and pulling her close to him, cradling her in a tight hold as he swooped them both up from a free fall. Her fingers tightened on his jumpsuit out of surprise. For a few seconds, he said nothing. Only the strange possessiveness with which he held her close spoke between them that _he would not let her fall_. And then: "Dammit, Val," he hissed, red eyes wide with barely constrained fear. "The hell? Are you really that clumsy without your suit?"

She looked up at him, realizing that they had again transgressed far beyond the boundaries of ordinary enemies. Here she was, cradled in the arms of the true visage of Dan Phantom and all of his demonic coloring. And yet, it felt good. His strong arms supported her as if she weighed nothing. And despite the darkness within him, she felt entirely safe.

"Check and mate," she whispered triumphantly. She patted his face in amusement and mock sympathy. His skin was cold and smooth, his flickering hair brushing against her knuckles. "I coulda called my jet sled back to me, you know."

Green stormed across his face in a strange blush; his face twitched in irritation and realization that Valerie had in fact played him. He suddenly released her, and she yelped out a laugh as she fell through the air once more. The smooth panels of her battle suit fanned over her body, and her jet sled flew towards her. With a graceful swoop, it aligned itself to her, and she twisted so that she landed perfectly on the foot locks, straightening up to eye Dan. Then she put a hand on her hips and called to him, "Aww, you tried to rescue a _human_."

"Not funny," he hissed, face still twisted with conflicting emotions. "Don't ever do that again."

"Why not?" she challenged.

"Your death does not entertain me. Keep that damn suit on next time you think about free falling. As a matter of fact, keep that suit on all the time. Then you can't die."

A sad amusement twitched up her lips. "And yet you're entertained by killing other people. You really make no sense to me."

"I've told you before that you're _different_," he huffed. "I've killed billions and maimed more. I destroyed this world's cities and laughed, and I regret nothing. Do not confuse my illusion of a human skin as a sign of humanity."

She said, tilting her head a bit. "Oh, I know you're screwed up. But wanting to be with people who understand you? That's kind of…human."

He blinked. He looked almost uncomfortable with the thought—that some part of him really was still human. That his defining need for Valerie was not some evolved behavior.

Then suddenly, something else distracted him. His face twisted into something between amusement and disgust, his eyes unfocusing into the distance. "Speaking of human, your friends have an excessive interest in your sex life," he declared suddenly, surprised at the turn of conversation between his clone he'd left back at the resistance. A wicked smirk overcame him. "They're concerned that you need a little…loosening up. They'd like to know in what ways I please you at night. I'm afraid such conversation just entirely derailed my attention from your miserable attempts to reform me."

She blinked. "…What?" She clenched her fists, feeling her heart begin to pound again in sudden uncertainty. "The hell are they telling you? What are you telling them back?!"

"Well," he said slyly, "you admitted you're a virgin, so it would not do to lie. That could make things too awkward for you to fake."

She blushed as she face-palmed. "Oh my god," she whined. "Seriously, _why_ are you even talking about this with them?!"

"And now they're telling me that _I_ need loosening up," he said, voice turning with something between a laugh and an uneasy strain. "How—"

His mouth suddenly clicked shut. Then his eyes widened, and a strange, green-tinged blush dusted across his horrified face. "Oh."

Valerie stilled on her jet sled, a hand on her hip. She asked dryly, "What now? Finally found a conversation boundary not worth crossing?"

"…My clone just got man-handled by a group of women." His blush deepened, and his face twitched in disgust and confusion. His fingers clenched tight into a fist as his stomach muscles instinctively flinched at the ghost feeling of hands upon his copy. "Those insects are _touching _me."

Valerie's eyes widened. An image of girls pulling at Dan's hair and trying to tear off his clothes came to mind. And she almost laughed, until she realized the psychotic darkness upon Dan's face as his horror gave way to fury. She pointed at him. "Stop," she demanded sharply, as if she were scolding a dog. "I know what you're thinking, and don't do it. I'll get you away from that, okay? Just give me like, 15 seconds."

"10," he bargained, red eyes glowing orange in his anger. "Now. Or I will kill them all."

Valerie spun around and shot towards Amity Park to save Dan from his own conspiracy. At least she knew he would likely be too frozen to get one last shot in at the city of Jasper. "You better thank me later!" she yelled back.

The clone nearly snarled. "And you better thank _me_."

* * *

><p>In short order, Valerie found herself storming through the front entrance of the resistance. She flew low on her jet sled, body curled to navigate through the tighter passages. She could hear the noise of laughs and giggles as she neared closer. And the image of women pulling on Dan's clothes again came to mind, and she nearly smirked—she was gonna have to <em>save<em> Dan from a group of women!—but then she rounded the corner. A gaggle of women had surrounded the newcomer, some in general curiosity and others with far more forward intentions. He was backed against a wall, one woman's hands in his hair, another poking his stomach to feel his abs, while yet another hung off of his arm, stroking his biceps. Paulina stood off to the side, giggling.

Dan looked truly petrified. Only the twitch of his hand alerted Valerie to the reality that he was pissed off and seconds away from killing them all.

Somehow, the image was less entertaining than she thought it'd be. As a matter of fact, something cold steeled against the women blatantly flirting.

"You know, if Valerie's still angry with you, you can stay in my place," one of the women said dreamily, leaning against him. "I got a bed. That we could share."

At that, a strange and jealous rage overwhelmed Valerie as she jumped down from her jet sled. "What the hell's going on in here?" she called out, announcing her presence with her usual tact.

Dan looked up. "Valerie," he breathed, his baritone voice straining with relief and barely suppressed frustration. _Oh, thank god. _"Get me out of here."

"But sweetheart," one woman pleaded, grabbing harder onto his arm, "Valerie doesn't need you. Come on, forget about her!"

Valerie glared at the woman. Dan was hers, dammit. Whether she was angry with him or not, whether she needed him or not, he was always hers. She_ owned_ his afterlife. And if no one understand that, then she'd have to make them understand.

A small blip of uncertainty struck her, but then she straightened her spine with false confidence. _I know what would end this for good._ So she stomped up to him in a great huff, shoving aside a few of the women who'd infringed on her space. In a blur, she grabbed Dan's jacket's collar and pulled him down, planting a solid kiss upon his lips in front of everyone.

Dan's blue eyes flew open in surprise. His shock froze him, his mind blanking at the feeling of Valerie's lips against his—the warmth of her body seeping into his clothes and skin—the _softness_—

Then Valerie pulled away, releasing his collar. Her breath was halted, the lines of her body vulnerable with attraction and possessiveness for him. It was part-manipulation and part-truth, as most things were for her. "I missed you," she whispered, batting her eyelashes. There was no way she'd let anyone leave without them knowing that she'd staked a claim on this man.

For a second, Dan remained truly, inexplicably speechless. His jaw had dropped, his face had tinged red in a blush. Valerie Gray had just kissed him. He knew what she tasted like now. She'd kissed him of her own free will. And nothing was sexier than how she'd just completely dominated him and usurped control.

His eyes dilated with desire, and he blurred forward, grabbing her hips and kissing her back hard.

A muffled note of surprise escaped her as she grabbed onto his arms for stability. The raw desire that bled off of him overwhelmed her. The exotic awareness that she was doing this in front of an audience made the fire she felt all the more enticing.

And before she knew it, he pulled away. "I missed you too," he whispered, eyes strained with hunger.

A very real attraction—that they could affect each other so much—spurned them both forward. Without thinking, Valerie wove her armored fingers into his black hair, pressing him closer to her instinctively, demanding to feel him kiss her again. He willingly submitted, humming in pleasure as his lips met hers.

So. This was the fire they'd suppressed for so long. That it'd taken so long to feel it made it all the sweeter.

A few men whistled as they walked by the crowd. A lot of women sighed. Some of them grumbled. It was hard to deny the stake that Valerie had just placed on the mysterious D. And, uh, was still placing.

And that he was placing on her…

They all began to quietly inch away, slowly growing more and more uncomfortable with the ongoing display of attraction. Eventually, even the women who had tried to move in on Dan blushed and left. Paulina sighed, as if greatly jealous, but then a twitch of sneaky humor rose her full lips up as she walked away too.

No secret boyfriend, _indeed_.

* * *

><p>The instant everyone had left, the two reluctantly pulled away. Then Dan set his forehead against hers. "Hmm," he whispered, lips inches away from hers and stretching into a satisfied, lazy smile. "We might have our disagreements, but…" His large hand stroked down the swell of her hip, and the metal of her battle suit was hot with the heat from her body. "This is nice."<p>

She panted shakily, her hot breath mixing with his. "Yeah." Her entire body tingled with heightened nerves and the vibration of his baritone voice. She could feel every line of his body against her. She was even beginning to think she wanted his hand on her thigh to move to other places, and she swallowed hard. It was probably a good thing she hadn't retracted her battle suit. "…What just happened?"

He hummed, his lazy smile growing with delight. "I used to call it a fake-out make-out. It's something that makes your continued existence far more desirable."

Valerie huffed, licking her bruised lips with a dazed awe. _Holy shit. Forget that he wants world domination. I'll make him want something else. _"…Aren't we a little old for fake-out stuff?"

He paused. "Why yes. Yes, I believe we are."

Then Dan kissed her deeper, and his lips stretched against hers instinctively. Valerie's fingers dug harder into him. He recalled the power of his clone, who returned to him instantly, for he wanted all of him to feel and taste Valerie.

And for the first time, all thought of his past, of his bloodlust, of his death count, disappeared.

A couple of people still whistled as they walked by the two. But in such close quarters at the resistance, and with the end of the world always around the corner, such sights of intimacy were fairly mundane. And so they kept walking and thought little more about it beyond the simple surprise that Valerie Gray really did have a not-so-secret lover.

* * *

><p>From down the hall, Nathan lurked, eyes wide at the sight of Valerie sweetly kissing her boyfriend. The man held her in an intimate hold, pulling away only to kiss her again in a mindless afterthought. The two of them were whispering between kisses, the man's face splitting with mischievous grins, a similar smile gracing Valerie's face as she wrapped her arms around his neck. And though great fear bloomed in Nathan's heart at the sight of the man who had beaten him, he stared at Valerie. Longing overwhelmed him—to feel her lips upon hers, her fingers tightening into the locks of his hair and the clothes on his back. Just like that.<p>

He tried to listen in on their whispers and caught only bits and pieces.

"—_should get a room or something before_—" the man teased.

Valerie's whisper was full with just as much teasing. "_—like that, wouldn't_—?"

The man moaned. "—_you heartless_—"

In reply, she patted his face with a false sweetness. "—_gotta work for_—_retribution_ _since you're still such an evil_—"

After a moment, he reluctantly pulled away from her. Her armored fingers had messed up his ponytail and loosened several more strands, and so he tried to push his hair back again with no success.

Then the man began to turn around, and Valerie fought back a mischievous smirk, reaching for the loose ponytail holder in his hair.

Nathan inhaled shakily as he quickly scuttled down the hall before either could see him, heart pounding. His fingers tightened around his clipboard and the various papers he carried with him.

_ ValerieValerieValerie—_

Oh, the pain she caused him! He couldn't take it anymore. Watching her with another man made him steam in panic and his heart scrunch. It was one thing for the mysterious boyfriend to say he was a boyfriend—it was another thing entirely to see Valerie willingly kiss that man.

Surely, she knew that she was hurting him. Purposely, for sure. Because this was all some kind of feminine ploy to make him jealous. And maybe all he had to do was prove somehow that he was more worthy than this boyfriend called "D." Because D was an arrogant and violent bastard. And Valerie deserved better. And she knew it.

Or maybe Valerie was truly deceived by this man. And she needed someone to save her from D and from herself.

Nathan bit his lip, mind racing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**_ So__ I'm writing the Valentine thing kinda off the top of my head, and I was a little nervous about how this chapter turned out. Okay, really nervous. I may revise it, depending on feedback. So please, give me all the critique you want. :) _

_But good news! So **Silverstone007** talked about Human!Dan fanart in his last review, and when I went onto Deviantart to find some, I didn't find many that fit how I saw Human!Dan in my head. So I drew him! A picture of Valerie in her military outfit, of Dan lighting a cigarette and wearing his jacket and jeans, and of a face-shot where they almost kissed before Valerie's dad showed up are now on my Deviantart account, under __**LightningStreak**__ (www. lightningstreak . deviantart . com). Just remove the spaces or google it. I also have links to the pictures up on my profile. Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think and if you'd like any other kinds of Dan/Val fanart in the future. _

_Please leave a review with your thoughts, questions, critiques, and requests! Thanks. _


	22. Dan's Secret VALentine Plans Part 3

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

_Thanks to Crystalmoon39, Invader Johnny, too enigmatic 2 b urs, ZoneRobotnik, Guest, MushuFireLorde, Guest, SweetestChick, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, trish, Cookieplzandthnx, ElectricThrillsAndChills, and Silverstone007 for reviewing last time!_

_**Miniseries Summary:**_ _Dan's Secret VALentine Plans (Part Three): Dan uses a familiar human appearance to "spend more time" with Valerie, and to keep her safe from her stalker. Chaos and adult-type touching ensues. Rating: T, Genre: Romance/humor_

* * *

><p><strong>Deliverance<strong>

**Shot 22: Dan's Secret VALentine Plans (Part 3)**

* * *

><p>Now that Valerie had properly asserted herself as D's girlfriend, and since D had brushed aside all flirtations from anyone but Valerie, the resistance decided that Valerie and D were officially a couple. And no one bothered the mysterious and handsome D again, but for a few women who still stared longingly at him from a distance.<p>

The two of them were now walking deeper into the resistance building. Dan huffed, nose scrunched, as he tried to retie his hair with the band that Valerie had so mischievously pulled out. "Dammit," he grumbled. "I had this perfect before you ruined it."

Valerie had retracted her battle suit, but her jaw set as she quirked a sculpted brow at him. Two could play at this kind of fight. "You weren't complaining before."

He finally managed to tie his black hair back, but some of the strands were still loose, and he face-faulted when they fell right back down his cheeks. Damn his non-floating hair and this whole fake-human skin. "We were in the middle of an important discussion that distracted me," he said, voice full of strange patterns. He tilted his eyes towards her, every line of his body still strained with desire. "A discussion I should like to have again."

She perhaps walked faster, her face blushing. "You wish." Even though her first kiss had mostly been for show to ward off other women and stake claim on Dan, it'd turned into something far beyond her control. The desire behind that kiss had been as real as the race of her heartbeat and the gasp of his breath against her lips. A large part of her wanted it to happen again, but the important thing was to not let Phantom know just how much she wanted him back, because that was dangerous. Whoever held the least emotional attachment would have the most power in this new chess game. Valerie wanted to make sure she kept the power.

"Now why would you not want a repeat discussion?" he demanded darkly. His deep baritone voice was still husked in a way that made Valerie's spine tingle. "You can't forget a kiss like that."

"I can't forget a _lot_ of things," she retorted, raising her chin. "Like the fact that you're a psychotic maniac out to take over the world."

"…So?"

"So," she huffed, "that kinda ruins the mood when I think about it."

"You weren't thinking about my death count earlier," he said bluntly, frustration growing. A vindictive tone bled into his voice. "You were weak-kneed for me. You were practically begging for me to take you, right in the middle of the hallway."

The concept that Dan Phantom was a guilty pleasure left Valerie feeling caged. She said harshly, "And you weren't needy too? We both liked it, and you know it. Doesn't make it right."

He laughed. "'Doesn't make it right?' You know better than to waste your time preaching to me about ethics." But he had full confidence that he could wear Valerie down into kissing him again and forgetting about his day job as the Ravager of Worlds. Which, to be honest, he kind of forgot about as well while kissing her.

He wove his fingers into hers, grabbing tight. "Now tell me where we're going."

She tentatively tightened her fingers around his cool hand. This was all part of their image as a couple to deter Nathan. Right. "I'm grabbing some brunch cause _somebody_ made me skip breakfast and then burn off my reserves. I'm freakin' starving."

With all of the panic around Jasper city, and with Dan's curious invasion of her life, she'd hardly realized that hours had passed since she'd first awoken.

"Oh, how unfortunate that you always have to fight that devilish Phantom character," Dan said, voice mocking. "My heart bleeds. Perhaps if you simply bowed before his might and became his slave, you would not miss important feeding times."

Valerie's eye twitched. "Excuse me?"

"Enslavement is considered such a bad thing in the eye of modern human morality," he said. "But really, I think you'd enjoy it—"

She indiscreetly wrenched his hand hard, and he flinched at the sudden wave of pain that accompanied a _pop_ in his bones. A small gasp escaped his lips as he snatched his hand away, stopping dead in his tracks. He stared at her in surprise, and his blue eyes nearly bled red.

Perhaps she'd only snapped a tendon, but dammit, that hurt.

"What was that for?" he hissed.

Valerie just smiled sweetly at him as she cooed, "Aww, did I accidentally bump your sprained wrist? Baby, you should _be more careful_ when you choose your battles." She raised his rapidly healing wrist to her lips and kissed it, eyes flashing in warning. "You might get hurt."

He looked truly surprised that Valerie would take such advantage over his fallen guard. His face twitched between great irritation and amusement at her hidden message. "You bitch. After all that I do for you, and this is how you repay me?"

She dropped his hand, which had already healed the snapped tendon. "I don't bow before anyone for any reason, so get that idea out of your head right now," she said, voice hard. "And don't pretend to be a saint on my behalf. Because you're not."

He rubbed his wrist, eyeing her with a bit more caution. Only Valerie would dare to risk his fury in such a way. A dark, pleased smile stretched across his face. "Is this you playing hard to get?" he asked suddenly.

Valerie rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not playing 'hard to get.' This is a friendly warning that if you ever try to enslave me or tell me what to do, I will destroy you. Good kiss or not."

The disguised ghost looked disgruntled, but he supposed it was fair. He could not expect Valerie to complete give way beneath his desires just yet. "Perhaps I may not get you to bow as my slave, but…" His blue eyes grew dark, a teasing smile on his lips. "I can think of other enjoyable positions to bend you into."

She huffed, eyes wide. "What the—? Jesus, does everything have to be a sex pun to you?!"

"You know you love it." He waved before her. "My dear Watson, puns are considered the highest form of intelligent humor. Get with the program."

"There is nothing intelligent about you. And stop calling me Watson. That's, like, the fifteenth time this month."

He pouted, eyes flashing with displeasure. "But I _need _a Watson to my Sherlock. In case you haven't noticed, you're the only one who actively attempts to unravel my genius schemes."

The conversation began to irritate her, as Valerie despised Phantom's interest in literary references and classic books. It meant she had to read them too to keep up with him. She complained, "That takes the metaphor out of context. We're not partners, and you're not a good-guy crack addict solving crimes to help people."

"We _could_ be partners, you know."

"No, we couldn't."

He huffed. "You just said you refused to bow to me as a slave. I offer you a more appropriate title as an equal partner learning under my genius, and you spurn that too." He leaned towards her personal space, narrowing his eyes. "In case you forgot, we_ did_ swap spit in a quite pleasing fashion. That constitutes as a sort of partnership."

She blushed at the reminder, and her tongue stalled in her mouth with no further retort. Then she stomped forward in a wordless huff, her entire body tingling at the memory of the kisses they had shared.

It _had_ certainly been a mutual experience.

Dan hid an evil smirk as he watched her concede defeat. His favorite pastime, even above killing people, was mentally trumping Valerie. He trailed after her, confidence oozing off the lines of his shoulders. "What," he called out, "no comeback?"

She turned the corner and said over her shoulder, "I'll think of a comeback after I get some brain food. Give me three minutes."

The hall opened up into a large atrium with several food lines, food workers, and the smell of breakfast. The cooks had prepared army-quantities of eggs and bacon, and they looked to be dishing up some kind of soup as well. Considering the pact Dan had made with Valerie, she imagined that he could stand by for a short time without her.

She halfway expected him to laugh at her human weakness—that she did not have unlimited energy and that she had to eat food to survive and think. But Dan appeared distantly interested by the food that he saw. Only a few seconds after she turned away, he began to follow after her, not unlike a dog, curiously sniffing the air.

The Red Huntress grabbed a lunch tray as she approached the cook line, but a flash of something dark to her side made her look up and flinch in surprise. Dan was suddenly standing right next to her, pondering at the lunch tray stack.

"…What are you doing?" she asked bluntly, eyes wide.

He grabbed the tray he believe to be the least contaminated. "I'm joining you for brunch."

She said, confused, "But you don't even _eat _food."

"Appearances, Valerie," he chided lightly, bumping against her as he set his lunch tray beside hers to stand in line. "I must maintain my illusion."

The feeling of his arm brushing against hers was enough to make her heart beat faster, and she looked away, caught between feeling awkward and bumping him back out of her natural instincts to retaliate. If he stood by her side the entire day, it would make it much harder to ignore the tension between them and her own temptation to kiss the infamous Dan Phantom again—this time with no more motivation behind it than her own desire.

"Hello, dear," an older woman dressed in a cooking apron walked up from the other side of the line to serve her.

Valerie shook out of her thoughts and smiled back, thankful for the distraction. "Hey, Margie."

The older woman loaded extra eggs and bacon onto a plate for her and said, "I heard Phantom killed twenty in Jasper. Reports say he would have killed more if you hadn't shown up so fast." She pointed her eyes. "You okay? Did you get hurt at all?"

Valerie blinked. "No, I'm fine." She looked over nervously at Dan, who stared back, as if curiously awaiting her response as well. The weight of twenty deaths seemed to bridge between them, reminding her that "D" was not at all a hero. "He, uh…didn't hurt me this time."

Margie, the cook, looked greatly relieved. "You risk so much, dear. Are you eating enough? Sleeping enough? Nathan leaving you alone yet?"

"I'm fine," Valerie said again, beginning to feel self-conscious and worried about the reference to Nathan, especially in the presence of Dan, who still seemed likely to try killing Nathan. God, why was everyone so candid about her problems today? "Uh," she tried to distract the cook, "can I have some of that soup you're putting out? Looks good."

"Certainly, dear." The nosey woman began to dish some of the potato soup into a bowl, and she placed it on Valerie's tray. Then she looked over at Dan for the first time, and a happier smile overcame her. "And is this stranger your secret boyfriend we've heard so much about?"

Valerie blushed, eyes widening a bit. "Um…"

"My, what a handsome young man!" Margie breathed. She loaded on scoop after scoop of eggs onto his plate, somewhat star-struck. "Just look at him! Ain't he a looker?"

Dan cast a signature smile at the cook. "You're too kind," he said, his deep voice smooth with something that suggested to Valerie he was playing along for her own mortification.

The old cook cooed, "It's so nice to see a fresh face." She leaned in and winked. "And I hear you're protecting her from unwanted affections, huh?"

"Oh my God," Valerie muttered, pulling away to find a table. She did not want to hear an old woman coo over _Dan_ and praise him for beating someone up. It was a whole new level of disturbing.

Dan simply soaked in the attention, calculating the worth of the woman as an informant. With Valerie gone, it was possible he could gleam more information from them. "I didn't know," he said carefully, "that Valerie had such troubles here."

The old woman leaned in. "I worry for her a lot, you know. That Nathan—" she cut herself off, then smiled painfully. She began to load a bowl of breakfast soup for him as well. "Well, I'm just glad you're tagging along with her today."

Dan frowned. "What have you seen Nathan do?"

She looked a bit worried. "He's just…getting worse, always tagging her down and not taking no for an answer. Our poor Valerie spends most of her life fighting off one crazy man, only to spend the rest of it fighting another."

Dan gracefully managed to stifle the sudden fury that whipped through him – _How dare this decrepit insect compare me to a worm_—_I am not crazy_—and he smiled to hide his eye-twitch. "Don't worry," he said through his gritted smile. "I intend to stop Nathan for good."

And then he turned away, digging his fingers into his plate with barely restrained anger. Something about the comparison, that Dan Phantom was crazy like Nathan, burned him. He was not crazy like Nathan. He and Valerie certainly had their disagreements regarding justice and the sanctity of life, but their relational issues were…different in comparison to the blight that was Nathan.

Right?

His mind thought back to how Valerie had grabbed onto his collar and forced him down to kiss him. That had to mean something. The way her heart had raced for him…the way her eyes dilated with a raw lust when he'd traced her hips… He had not forced her to kiss him, to open her mouth to his and grab hard onto his hair.

He looked at Valerie who had settled at a table towards the corner of the atrium and was readjusting her wild pony tail. She looked up, as if feeling his eyes. And though her face tightened with some kind of emotion, it was not a fear or hatred. Rather, her face reddened a bit as she…ran her eyes over him?

Was she checking him out as he walked?

His slight fear melted away into full confidence, and he nearly laughed. Though he knew himself to be quite contrary to human morality, he had enough evidence to conclude that Valerie wanted him regardless. He unashamedly met her gaze, then swept his eyes over her body to return the favor.

That blush of hers deepened, and yet she did not look away.

That had to mean something too.

As he walked up, he set his tray down and sat opposite of her. "You know," he said, "your choice of the far corner table suggests that either you wish to isolate me, or that you wish to isolate yourself. Or both."

"That would be the idea," she said dryly. "Can't have you causing chaos on the open."

He could not argue with her logic, as he did enjoy chaos. With a sniff of superior distain, he sat down and puzzled over the experience of pretending to be human again. Being so…domesticated, if only for a while.

"This table has a flawed design," he declared suddenly, frowning. With hardly any force, he pushed against its side, and it wobbled, shaking the plates. "It's obviously cheap and inferior. The tiling might also be uneven."

Valerie rolled her eyes. She stabbed her fork into her eggs and began to eat. With a cheek full of food, she said in a muffled voice, "That happens on a budget."

"This seat is too hard."

"I'm pretty sure I've slammed you into buildings that were harder."

His nose scrunched. He stared at her plate, then his. He whined, "And your food looks better than mine."

She gave him an incredulous look. "It's the _same damn thing_."

"Yes, but you received one extra piece of bacon than I did. I feel challenged by this."

"…Oh my god, you are ridiculous," she moaned. "I don't get you. You don't even eat food. Why do you care?"

"Because I demand superiority and perfection in all things. And if I must make personal sacrifices for our mutual benefit, I at least wish to do so in style." With a bit of hesitance, he picked up a bacon strip and eyed it, then tentatively bit down on the edge. He added slowly after another bite, "Though I suppose the taste isn't horrific." He actually looked rather pleased, and he settled into some kind of contentment, munching down with greater hunger. "Not bad."

Valerie looked relieved that she wouldn't have to endure further complaining. Dan complaining about anything usually gave her a headache.

The lines of Dan's body grew more relaxed as he began to truly enjoy his breakfast, and Valerie began to wonder if perhaps Dan had missed the simple pleasure of eating. If that were the case, she thought wryly, then it was no wonder he wanted to kill people all the time. She'd be pretty pissed too if she didn't eat.

But if food were the secret to taking down Dan Phantom, the Ravager of Worlds, then she was likely to either laugh or cry. She could almost imagine her dead mother tapping her nose and reminding her that she'd forgotten one life truth: _the way to a man's heart was through his stomach._

As Valerie contemplated her mini-career crisis, Dan slurped on the breakfast potato soup. Its taste pleasantly surprised him, and he swallowed in delight, feeling the way the warmth ran down to his belly. Truly, this was a much better way of warming himself up than smoking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Valerie eat, noting her lack of table manners with great interest until she grew self-conscious and set her fork down in a huff, one cheek still bulged with food. "What? You got a problem?" she said, voice muffled.

He smiled. "I occasionally forget that you're human and weak. Your sloppy eating habits are a pleasant reminder."

She blushed at the underhanded criticism, then stabbed her fork back into her eggs with more force. "Yeah? Well, if you want a pretty princess, go somewhere else."

"Do I _look_ like someone who would tolerate a pretty princess?"

"You tolerated Paulina," she pointed out, a spark of subconscious jealousy coming over her. Paulina—the perfect hourglass woman with the perfect hair and perfect skin and the perfect table manners and—

"—That was business, not pleasure." His lips dropped into a frown. "Certainly not anything I'd like to do again. Her voice has a whine like that of a dying cat, and her intelligence quota is nonexistent."

Valerie nearly choked on her eggs to hide the smile that wanted to stretch on her face. No man dared to criticize the perfection that was Paulina Sanchez. The fact that Dan was not at all interested in her lightened a strange load from her heart, even though she felt obligated to defend Paulina. "That _is_ my friend you're insulting. And you still haven't told me yet what you talked about while I was gone."

He waved his spoon casually. "Mostly about you and how…concerned we both are for you."

She huffed, biting into a piece of bacon with more force than was necessary. "What exactly did she say?"

"And why do you care so much?" he demanded. "Why do you wish me to remain ignorant to your life here?" He began to jump to conclusions. "Has Nathan done something to you that you want to hide?"

She blushed, eyes widened. "What? No! No. It's just—" She huffed. "You're here to play my boyfriend. You don't need to know every detail about my life story."

In truth, there were just some things she did not want to have to explain to Dan. It would be embarrassing, and if he were so truly possessive, then it was possible he would lose whatever self-control he had managed to harness.

Too bad he had a one-track mind.

"To properly end Nathan's obsession with you," he said, "I need to understand in what ways he accosts you. That way, I know where to be. How to respond." He smiled darkly. "What the appropriate punishment for him should be."

She pointed her finger. "And that's exactly why you don't need to know everything. Because you have no concept of justice."

He frowned. Perhaps Valerie simply needed some introspection regarding her own problem. He munched on eggs for a second, waving his fork. "If my superior deduction skills have not degraded, I assume that you spend much of your time here doing paperwork and training. Is this true?"

"…Yes?"

"And then," he said, voice growing stronger with confidence, "judging by the eyewitness accounts from your bimbo friend and the old insect, you spend the rest of your time attempting to avoid Nathan. Is this true as well?"

Her face flamed up, and she looked away from him. The silence between them weighed heavy, and it spoke greater words than Valerie herself would be willing to admit. It was the first time Valerie had truly thought about how much of her non-Phantom life revolved around avoiding Nathan.

She sighed out a groan and set her fork down. "I just…don't know what to do anymore."

"Please tell me at least that you don't still hide under lunch tables."

"No, I grew out of that." She seemed frustrated. "But nothing I do stops him. He just keeps…doing stuff. You sure this whole pretending-to-be-a-couple thing is really gonna stop him?"

"We shall see," Dan said, calculating. "If he's intelligent, he'll back off."

Almost as if the human knew he was being talked about, Nathan entered the cafeteria, wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard. For a second, Nathan's eyes scanned the room, and they automatically roved over to Valerie, running over her frizzed ringlet hair and moving downward.

Dan narrowed his eyes into a dark glare. Nathan snapped out of his Valerie-induced trance and looked over at Dan, paling a bit. For a second, Nathan looked every inch the defenseless and terrified worm, but then he licked his lips and hardened his own gaze, walking on.

Dan blinked in surprise.

"Lemme guess," Valerie deadpanned. Even though her back was turned away from the hall, she had an idea of what was happening. "You're seeing Nathan, right?"

The ghost snarled, "What's he doing _here_?"

"Yeah, he kinda lives here, so he'll eat here too."

A growl worked its way up Dan's throat, his hand clenching his spoon hard enough to bend it. "That little shit," he snarled. "After his lesson, he still looks at you. He just challenged me."

"You're bending the spoon."

"Irrelevant," he snapped. "Nathan needs to die. Right now."

She kicked his foot underneath the table. "No, he doesn't. And you promised you wouldn't kill anyone. You better stick to that promise, or—"

"—Or what?" he demanded. "Do you honestly wish for Nathan to continue bothering you?"

Valerie looked uncomfortable as she said slowly. "No, but I don't want him to die. I just want him to stop…wanting me."

"What's the difference?" Dan said with a snarl. Possession over Valerie seemed to grip him stronger than even his usual bloodlust. "He deserves to have his blood paint the walls. He just revealed how unintelligent he really is, by looking upon you with such desire, knowing that you are mine—"

She leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "—I'm nobody's. And you better put a cap on that anger, right now. If you snap and try to kill Nathan, that illusion of yours will have to be arrested for manslaughter. Whatever freedom you have to be a different person here, you'll lose it." She crossed her arms. "And you'll lose me too."

He snapped up to look at her, his blue eyes straining with red. "Why?" he demanded, the thought driving his anger deeper. "Why would I lose you for _doing you a favor_?"

"Because," she said shortly, crossing her arms, "Valerie Gray's got a problem with officially dating murderers. And right now, 'D' isn't one, unlike the rest of you. So if you want a repeat of this morning at all, stop. Now."

His eye twitched, and he glared at her, grumbling under his breath. "That is cruel manipulation." But he hesitated, seemingly at war with himself to calm the possessive fury that swarmed within him. He knew at some core that Valerie was right; killing Nathan now, who only wielded a clipboard and had done little more than look upon Valerie, would likely result in many consequences that would burn his false appearance forever. Valerie would be forced to split ties with D, simply out of propriety.

With an unsteady jerk of his fingers, he re-bent his spoon back into shape and slurped on his soup again. His narrowed eyes tracked Nathan the entire time as the red-head moved through the breakfast line, then back out of the atrium and down the hall. And it was then that Dan realized this Nathan Green was a resilient sort of cockroach, who would likely keep coming back short of a nuclear blast.

He began to calculate on his mental chess board what it would take to stop Nathan forever, in a way that would make Valerie understand just how blind she was to Nathan's insanity. Then Valerie would willingly come running to him, admitting that he was right and that Nathan should die—

The chess pieces began to set into place. He'd expose Nathan at his worst, so that no one would dare to protect him from real justice.

And then, maybe then, "D" would be justified in the eyes of the human race to slit the throat of Nathan Green once and for all.

In the meantime, Valerie stared at her arch nemesis and his disgruntled expression. Phantom was a strange enemy to have, with his odd demands and love for the game itself. He was an even stranger love interest. And yet here he was, eating human food, taking interest in her day, acting protective. Even though he was still the same old Dan in so many ways, his fury on her behalf was…nice.

Nobody had ever offered to really help her with Nathan.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she failed to see him grab the extra piece of bacon off of her plate. "Hey!" She smacked his hand away with indignant anger. "That's mine."

He just smiled darkly, still calculating. "What? I haven't eaten anything in_ years_."

* * *

><p>The rest of the day flew by in a flurry. Dan remained largely attached to her, interested in her daily routine so he could understand how Nathan managed to bug her constantly. His curiosity went far enough that he was willing to stand guard while she did paperwork in her office, of which she had multiple stacks of debriefing reports waiting for her beside her desk.<p>

Upon entering her office, Dan complained about the lack of pictures of him, and then he nosed around her desk until she whacked his arm with a stack of forms and told him to sit down while she worked. He then seemed to indicate that he was quite willing to perform a repeat of their "fake-out make-out" with the blinds closed, but she snapped that she had work to do.

"Valerie," he moaned in complaint. "Do you even realize the sort of torment you're putting us both through by sitting there and…pretending this morning didn't happen?"

She blushed. "Look, I said it was good, alright? I just…"

"Are you afraid?"

Her voice was defensive. "No."

"I think you are."

"No, I'm not."

He smiled. "Yes, you are. You fear the consequences of a physical relationship with me, even though we have been…intimately connected in the mind for almost a decade." He leaned on the front of her desk. "You fear that once the newness wears off of our physical relationship, your life will descend into some greater misery."

She gaped at him from over a blank report, her pen frozen in her hand. A blush began to bloom over her face. "That isn't…I mean—"

He waved it off. "Such fears are for those who have no mental investment in their lovers." He looked at her. "It's for the people who define their relationship through physicality alone. After ten years, I'd say we have fairly solid foundations enough to know we are above such trivialities."

"We aren't lovers," she said dryly.

A mischievous smirk tilted his lips. "Not yet." Valerie sputtered, her mouth tightening into a thin line, and she looked back down at her work in irritation.

His smirk stretched, but he stopped teaasing, for he knew Valerie would only grow more irate with him if he continued. He looked over at the impressive bookcase that lined one of her walls. "So why do you have so much paperwork?" he called over his shoulder.

"Because," she huffed. "I'm usually out fighting you from dawn to dusk. I'm like, six months behind on everything, no thanks to you."

"Oh, that's right," he said, browsing through the shelves of the bookcase, blindly scrolling through titles of medical care and engineering books. "I forgot that you're entirely human and incapable of cloning yourself to maximize efficiency."

"Yes," she said dryly. "Because that's how everyone solves their problems."

Then Dan fell uncharacteristically silent for a moment, something catching his eye. A whole section of Valerie's bookcase was dedicated not to nonfictional books, but to classical fiction.

He ran his forefinger over the titles, feeling the high-quality binding and gold letters. Some part of his mind (certainly not the Danny Fenton part) appreciated the old books. At times, it felt that he had perhaps read them as a child over and over again, which suggested the impulse was a vestige left over from one Vlad Plasmius—whose memories were largely conveyed in little more than emotion. But he did not usually try to separate himself out into parts, and so the impulse was simply his own. As he read over the titles, great enjoyment swarmed through him. _The Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes. The Complete Works of Shakespeare. The Canterbury Tales. The Waste Land. Paradise Lost. The Heart of Darkness._

His eyebrow raised. "Why Valerie, I didn't know you had a classic book collection. Or that you even enjoyed reading."

She dropped her pen with a sharp sigh of irritation. She was not going to get work done with him interrupting her thoughts every few minutes. She painfully smiled. "I don't enjoy reading. I'd rather shoot myself."

"So…then why do you own these books?"

"So that I could figure out what you were saying half the time," she complained. "You always have to make these literary references and then expect me to act like I know what you mean."

"Did you ever research the story that included the beast with two backs?" he said suddenly. "I seem to recall a conversation about that."

"No. I already knew what that was." She blushed, not looking up from her work.

He waved _The Complete Works of Shakespeare_ at her. "You have it here," he said point-blank. "In _The Tragedy of Othello_."

"Well, if it entertains you so much, why don't _you_ read it?" She bit her lip as she desperately tried to focus on her debriefing form. Dammit, she'd lost her spot.

Dan pondered at the book, then put it back. "I've quite memorized Shakespeare," he said casually. "Though I believe your copy of _Crime and Punishment_ is calling to me." He settled into the comfortable chair on the opposite side of her desk, cracking open the hard cover of the book. "Don't mind me."

"Oh, never," she said, voice falsely pleasant.

And as Valerie worked over the next hours, Dan alternated between reading, eyeing Valerie, and watching the door. He enjoyed the plot of the classic book, but he noticed Nathan pass by the office door over twenty times, looking through the window each time to see if Valerie were alone yet. Valerie was, of course, entirely unaware and engrossed in her notes. Each time, it grew harder and harder for Dan to sit still and avoid growling. He stopped reading the book entirely so that he could anticipate Nathan's next appearance. His glares grew darker until they were absolutely demonic. He could almost feel the black strands of his hair flicker up at the ends until he realized what he was doing.

The seventeenth time Nathan passed by, Dan lost it. He slammed his book shut and cast it on the floor. Then he stood and non-too-gently shut the blinds on Valerie's window, growling.

Valerie looked up from her debriefing report on the attack at Jasper City, raising a brow. "…What are you _doing_?"

He said, irritation barely contained, "For someone with expert battle and tracking skills, I'm surprised how much you don't notice here. Nathan keeps walking by. Do you realize he cases your office every fifteen minutes or less?"

She looked back down. "Nathan runs errands for a lot of departments. It's not like he can't move around."

"Don't make excuses for him," Dan said sharply, lip curling in a snarl. "Regardless of his station, he has no need to seek out your office and peer through your window. Don't be a pushover to your own race."

She slammed her fist on the desk, feeling insulted. "I am not a pushover. I just don't have time to worry about small things. If I can ignore him, I usually do."

"And that's worked so well," he said. He looked disturbed as he sat back down at his chair and crossed his arms. "You're the veritable lamb in a wolf den. A sitting duck."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Valerie asked, exasperated. "Nathan does a lot of work for the resistance. I can't kick him out. Maybe he just hasn't figured out yet that you're here to stay, and that's why he's still...acting up."

With a furrowed brow of frustration, Dan grabbed _Crime and Punishment_ off of his chair's armrest, and he opened to his bookmark, grumbling beneath his breath. "If I weren't so displeased by your passivity, I would be delighted by your insinuation that you want my continued presence." He flipped a page with more force than necessary. "Everything with you is so complicated."

Valerie snorted. "Well, get used to it. I'm not about to change just for you."

He dug into his jacket pocket for his cigarette and lighter, realizing that his core temperature was beginning to leech into the air. As he lit the end of the cigarette, he said, "I would be cross if you were anyone but yourself."

And the two of them fell into a relatively comfortable silence at that, Valerie grumbling to hide her pleased expression and the confliction she felt gazing at this wolf in sheep's clothing, who could say the most heartfelt things at all the worst times.

Dan looked back down at _Crime and Punishment_. As he breathed in deep the cigarette smoke, he focused on the story, losing himself in the spaces, for he knew that bantering with Valerie more would risk his chances of kissing her later.

He didn't want to admit it, but the comfortable space between them—occasionally making off-hand comments to Valerie as he read a book about self-destruction and justice—Valerie occasionally responding with a biting response—was actually quite nice. He could almost forget that they were supposed to be mortal enemies.

He wondered if perhaps Valerie were capable of forgetting too.

* * *

><p>Hours passed. The remaining pages of <em>Crime and Punishment <em>began to grow fewer. The stacks of "to do" paperwork on Valerie's desk began to lessen. They occasionally took short breaks to walk around the resistance building—a suggestion on Valerie's part, mostly out of fear that Dan would grow bored and then unleash mayhem for his own entertainment.

Around dinner time, they found themselves back in the atrium. Dan decided to try eating spaghetti and was again enraptured by the taste of food, enough that he seemed to forget himself. She watched in amusement as the Ravager of Worlds spun his fork on his plate, eyes furrowed in great concentration as he tried to wind as many noodles as possible onto the utensil.

"Having fun?" she asked dryly.

He glared at her. "There's a _science_ to this." But then he sniffed in triumph as he raised the fork with a heaping tangle of noodles, and he slurped the noodles into his mouth, closing his eyes in bliss. If his enjoyment of food continued, he supposed he would have a reason to keep more humans than just Valerie alive. He would have to enslave only the best of cooks, and then they would have to cook him everything under the sun that he'd forgotten about for ten years—as well as every dish he'd never tried.

Valerie seemed to be genuinely entertained by him, the lines of her body relaxing as she leaned her head on her hand. "If you enjoy eating so much, then just wait till you have, like, a cookie or something. I wanna know what you look like on a sugar high."

He opened up one brilliant blue eye, mischievous. "Do not tempt me."

* * *

><p>Nathan lurked in the corners of the atrium, watching the couple curiously but never exposing himself.<p>

He could see the hesitance in Valerie and the way her body—her oh so innocent and virginal body—leaned in want for the man, even from across the table. He felt threatened and alone by her betrayal. For ten years, he'd managed to keep Valerie to himself. He knew she had never been with a man (he would have known, he always knew her social circles, whom she talked to, what men were in her life and how she'd always brushed off advances…what time at night she locked herself alone in her room…). He supposed her old flame with D was an event before he'd gained so much access to her life, but her actions and hesitance told him that she had not yet given in. Perhaps she had been saving herself for when she could give up ghost hunting and become a softer woman.

But now this D man (this demon!) had turned her head around. He was corrupting her and had already bruised her lips and touched her body. And Valerie wanted him to.

Nathan felt stuck. If he did nothing, Valerie would inevitably submit to D's charms, and then she would be ruined. If he tried to interfere, D would inevitably beat him again. And if he tried to hurt D, then Valerie would likely never forgive him because her mind was corrupted and weakened.

He had to do something. He had to preserve whatever was left of the real Valerie Gray—before D could corrupt that too.

Nathan's fist clenched, and his breath hitched. This was no longer a time for ideas; he needed an action plan now. He had to preserve Valerie from D's touch. He had to stop D. He had to keep Valerie from ever being tempted by another man. _He had to stop D_.

Slowly, ideas connected in his head, aligning into a plan that stretched a sad smile across his face.

He supposed Valerie's secret love for him was a passing thought, for she obviously was willing to pursue other men. To have her to himself forever and ever, to punish D, he would have to be strong. He would have to take matters into his own hands. And he would have to do the unthinkable to save Valerie from her own horrible mistakes.

* * *

><p>Dan and Valerie remained in the atrium long after everyone else had left, speaking in tones too low for Nathan to hear from his spot behind a corner.<p>

"So," Dan asked with great interest, "where do I sleep tonight?"

She sat back in her chair, arms crossed. "We've got some extra rooms down my hall," she said. "You can take one of them."

His face faulted. "You mean, not your room?"

"Nope. Not my room." She looked unforgiving. "Don't push me on this, because I'm not budging."

"But—" he huffed. Then his lips pursed with great disappointment, until he leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "How can you expect me to protect you from Nathan if I am separated from you?"

"He's not gonna be in my room," she deadpanned. "He's not that crazy. And don't use Nathan as an excuse to manipulate me into letting you in."

He exhaled sharply, eyeing her. He had half a mind to tell Valerie that it was very much possible for Nathan to be that crazy, now that "D" existed as the new chess piece to shake up the status quo. He also thought to tease Valerie about her virgin fears regarding bedrooms—but she would probably kick him for that, and then he certainly would not get another kiss. At least for a while.

"It's very cruel," he said, "that you will swap spit with me here in the hall, but you delay sharing your bed."

She shined her bright teeth, a predatory look in her eye. "Don't hold your breath, lover boy."

He raised a brow, his lips stretched into a Cheshire grin that matched hers. "I don't have to breathe, Valerie."

Her face faulted into a pout at that. "Well, you don't have to sleep either, but _I _do. And you've already cut into my sleep schedule—" she looked up at the clock on the wall, which said 10:04—"by over an hour."

Now that he thought about it, Valerie _did _look a bit tired. The open weakness that seemed to exist in the lines of her body suddenly fascinated Dan, who had never seen the famous Ghost Slayer act anything but alert and lively. "Don't tell me that Valerie Gray the Ghost Slayer is an old person who goes to bed before midnight."

"I get up early," she said shortly. "Which means I have an early bed time. You know, when _somebody_ doesn't mess that up too."

He shrugged. "Interrupting sleep is part of my job description as an evil villain."

She asked tiredly as she stood up and grabbed her lunch tray, "Look, can I trust you to not do something insane in the middle of the night?"

"I'd never trust me," he said, lips tilting dark. "But I have slept out of boredom before. For you, I suppose I can engage in such hibernation."

The thought that he would again restrict himself on her behalf (even temporarily) send a wave of happiness through her. She reached out with her free hand and patted his face. "Good boy."

He pulled away from her touch and growled a bit in a disgruntled manner, but damn if he didn't actually enjoy it or the sound of Valerie's resounding, rough laugh.

* * *

><p>A time later found them walking down the sleeping quarters of the resistance, which were several halls dedicated to dorm-like rooms. "We're not completely militarized," Valerie said as they passed by the first hall, "so most of us either have our own rooms or roommates. All nonessential personal have their own housing offsite."<p>

Dan looked a bit relieved by this. "So no barracks that you have to share with other insects—I mean, humans?"

"No," she said dryly. "But the community showers keep you feeling pretty close."

His face faulted, and his nose scrunched. "That is disgusting."

They passed by doors with slick metal plaques on the front that named their inhabitants and titles. Dan supposed they had entered into the quarters for the central command—and here he was, walking in their very midst, undetected.

The thought was a slight comfort to him, a reminder that he truly wasn't human. That he was above all of this triviality and organization.

Eventually, Valerie stopped at a simple black door that matched all of the other doors—lacking a title plaque. She entered a passcode on the door's security lock, and it opened up into a respectable room with a desk and several lights illuminating a large bed. "You'll stay here in tonight," she said.

He looked around the hall, less interested in the room and more interested in his surroundings. The door precisely opposite to his said, _Valerie Gray, Defense Commander_.

"Aww," he mocked. "Hallmates."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't read too much into it." She turned away and began to walk towards her own door. "I'm going to bed, so don't bother me. I'll get up around 4:00 to come get you."

He did not look away from her, his eyes strained. Was she really going to play like none of this carried meaning? "Valerie," he said suddenly, trailing after her.

"What?" she called out with a groan, punching in the passcode for her door. The locks unlatched, and the door cracked open. Her nice, warm bed was only several feet away.

"Do you even realize," Dan moaned in complaint, "that I have been patiently waiting all day to kiss you again?"

"…Huh—?"

In a blur, he was by her side. He turned her around by her hips and kissed her with barely restrained passion, weaving his fingers into her loose, ringlet hair to pull her closer. She gave a surprised squeak that only made him desire her more. His power core pulsed in time with her heartbeat, his universe constricting down to one Valerie Gray.

This—whatever this was—was far better than any kind of world conquest.

Valerie's shock quickly wore off, and he felt her relax into the kiss. Her fingers curled into the front of his jacket, as if to lock him to her. Their kiss deepened, and Dan groaned at the friction of her lips and tongue against his, his entire body humming in pleasure as he complicated her, and as she complicated him.

Was that that again about beds and sleep?

Their lips stretched in new ways, their need growing greater. Her bare fingers—oh god, she wasn't wearing her battle suit this time—twitched beyond the front buckles of his jacket. But before his entire mind could become mush, he pulled away and set his forehead against hers, closing his eyes to feel the life within her.

Their chests heaved in the silence. "There," he whispered breathlessly. "I wanted to tell you good night."

Her face was a pleasant red. "Oh," she said in a daze.

Very reluctantly, he pulled away from her, his fingers slipping from the curls of her hair. Her hands fell uselessly at her side, just as she leaned hard against the threshold to keep her standing. Then, as if nothing had happened, Dan walked away and to the empty room across the hall. He shut the door.

And for the first time in nearly a day, the infamous Dan Phantom was out of her sight.

Still in a daze, Valerie moved into her room and shut her door, and then she leaned against it, eyes wide. "Holy _shit_," she breathed. Her body was shaking in desire for him, a burning need still deep in her belly. This was all a very dangerous game. Surely, Dan knew that. Probably, he had planned it.

She hid her face in her hands, feeling as though she were betraying herself. "Am I crazy?" she whispered to the air. _Was_ she crazy for liking it? For kissing him back? Dan Phantom had murdered millions and laughed. In the past, he had attacked her and nearly killed her with his power. Her worth to him was based upon his perception of her ability to entertain him. She supposed that, if she failed to meet his standards, he would likely grow tired of her and try to kill her off again.

Which made this whole fake relationship hardly a relationship at all. Just a physical benefit of a temporary truce.

But oh, did her body ache for him in ways that she'd never felt before. She flushed deep, breathing shakily at the memory of his baritone voice rumbling softly against her neck.

_ "We should get a room or something before we lose control." _

The truth was, she'd already lost control. The fact that he could honestly play the part of the protective, teasing boyfriend with a soft touch was—

"—Geez, Gray. Stop thinking about it," she complained. Slowly, she stood up and began to undo her belt and then her military uniform. "The more you think about it, the worse it's gonna get." She stepped out of her uniform and tossed it aside, looking for her pajama shorts and top. A small part of her began to wonder what it would be like to have Dan's hands undressing her.

She looked at herself in the mirror and reddened in self-conscious embarrassment. She didn't see herself as having a perfect body. It was terrifying to think of the excessively judgmental Dan staring at her naked and—

"Oh my god." She slapped her forehead, groaning. "Stop thinking like this." She unbuckled her bra and pulled on her shorts and tank top. Then she grabbed her hairbrush and began to undo her ponytail and the tangles that Dan's fingers had placed in her hair. Her hands shook. "It's not like that's ever gonna happen."

Damn that ghost for corrupting her thoughts like this. Now she would likely never see him the same way again.

Obviously, Dan was just infatuated with the idea of her and willing play around while he satisfied his need to take up every hour of her day. That was it. And she was just…infatuated with the idea that he was the only remaining fragment of the boy she'd once liked. None of this had anything to do with the fact that they understood the other person in too many ways—that they enjoyed their fights for too many reasons.

Right.

But a sudden knock at the door interrupted Valerie from her thoughts. The way the knock was hard and impatient sounded similar to Paulina's nightly knocks whenever she had juicy gossip to spread and an inability to keep her mouth shut. Valerie rolled her eyes. _Good grief._

"Paulina," she complained as she walked over and opened the door, "seriously, it's been a long day and I'm trying to sleep—"

Her voice died, and her eyes widened as she stared at the man before her. It was Dan, who was very interested in her threadbare tank top and shorts and her wild, loose hair that curled freely down her shoulders. It was the most disheveled state he'd ever seen her in.

"I'm not Paulina," he said, lips stretching wide as he realized that Valerie was not wearing a bra.

The air about him was slightly cooler, most likely from not smoking for a while. It goose-bumped her skin, and in paranoia, she crossed her arms over her chest. She half-thought about calling forth her battle gear to cover herself, but she did not want Dan to think she was actually threatening him. "The hell are you doing here?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes. "You got your own damn room."

"I got lonely," he pouted mockingly, leaning against the threshold. "I missed you."

She blushed red, grumbling. "I'm sure."

"Why don't you let me in?" he whispered, sticking his face in hers. "I won't do anything you won't like."

"No," she whispered back. Her heart was racing with a fear that she actually would like whatever he was thinking. Which she was sure had something to do with adult-type touching.

With little warning, he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers in a teasing kiss. Then he pulled away the second Valerie began to lean in as well. He licked his lips, her warmth still tingling on his skin. "How about now?"

She looked put out and irritated with his attempts to persuade her. "You are_ not_ going to seduce me into letting you into my room," she whispered, but her will looked weakened, the lines of her body softer.

He kissed her again, this time with more passion. He cupped the back of her neck, which radiated heat like fire, and he weaved his fingers into her stiff, frizzy curls.

Valerie felt herself give way beneath the snowstorm taste of his mouth, her mind blitzing._ Holy—he tastes good—want more—_Her fingers tentatively inched beneath his leather jacket, feeling the soft fabric and cool, hardened muscle beneath. It was as if she wished to prove he truly existed—that this wasn't all a dream.

He moaned, pressing her between himself and the wall. "If not your room, then how about mine?" he whispered against her lips. This pajama-clad Valerie Gray had damn near shut down his entire brain. He could feel the soft tautness of her body against his. It was a drug for him. He wanted more of her in any way he could.

Valerie hesitated, as if to pull away from him. Her shaky breath was as a caress against his face. "It's not the room I'm worried about."

Dan was about to retort with a tease, but his heightened senses acknowledged suddenly the sound of a foot squeaking against tile. He pulled away from Valerie, who looked surprised at the loss of him. Then she followed his gaze in confusion, which was pointed left down the hall.

And standing in the hall was one Nathan Green, jaw dropped.

For a second, all three of them stood in silence with Dan and Valerie's uneven breaths to mark the passage of seconds.

Valerie swallowed hard, feeling embarrassed and caged. If she pushed Dan away, it would inspire Nathan to consider that she didn't want Dan (which she did).If she did something radical to confirm her attraction to Dan, it would tell Nathan once and for all that she was taken.

But then a radical move—she had one in mind—would be conceding defeat to Dan and his campaign.

_Dammit. _

Nathan almost looked as if he would speak or cross the hall to them. The fear that bled into Valerie inspired her to make her radical movement. She grabbed onto one of the open front buckles of Dan's jacket, and she whispered loud enough for Nathan to hear, forcing her voice into a seductive tone, "We should take this inside."

Dan's blue eyes tightened. "I agree." He jauntily saluted Nathan with his middle finger, then kissed Valerie again, this time grabbing her hips to guide her backwards into her room. She gave a squeak of surprise, holding onto his neck for stability.

In a blur, he leaned Valerie against a wall and he absentmindedly kicked the door shut with his foot.

The resounding echo of the _click_ seemed to jar Valerie's mind that she had in fact just allowed Dan Phantom into her room, and that they were both still engaging in quite a bit of adult-type touching, even though they had no one like Nathan to pretend for anymore.

Dan's rough callouses sparked friction against her skin as his fingers slipped beneath the waistline of her shorts and the hem of her tank top. She gasped against his lips and tightened her grip. She knew something about this was wrong. No matter the illusion of human skin, these were the hands of a murderer at best. It was not supposed to feel so good to have them upon her body. To have Dan Phantom in her _bedroom_, sexing her up. To be doing the same to him.

This was wrong—all wrong.

She turned her head, breaking their kiss. She gasped for air, eyes wide. "W-we gotta stop," she whispered, voice wavering. "This wasn't—it's just cause Nathan—" Her mind felt scattered, her tongue still tingling with the taste of snow. "You gotta leave."

His hands slipped from her body slowly. "I don't think either of us want me to leave."

She swallowed hard. "Stop it." She pulled away, facing the door to hide her blush. "Do you think Nathan's still out there?"

"Most likely." He turned her chin back so that they remained eye to eye. His gaze was wicked and calculating as he whispered, "If you'd really like to disturb him, let me sleep in your room tonight. Nathan will get…ideas about what we've done." His thin lips stretched. "Unless you want to make it more than an idea."

She inhaled a sharp breath. The idea wasn't repulsive, but it was terrifying. Her tongue felt caught in her mouth. "No," she said, forcing her voice to harden against him. "You make it sound like this is all for my benefit, when it's really just for yours."

He looked frustrated and put out. "You can't keep denying that our attraction is mutual. Honestly, you're tormenting us both. You could gain from this arrangement as well."

"You can't expect me to trust you," she retorted. "Everything's got a price with you. Everything's got an angle."

He brushed his calloused thumb against her cheek, then her lips, which were soft and full like petals. "I'm not a hero, Valerie. You know that." His voice was dark, smooth as velvet. "You can't expect selflessness from me. But I know you are just as manipulative as I am, just as wicked." He mocked her. "So don't pretend to be a saint on my behalf, because you've never been one."

She whispered in a snarl, "I'm not evil like you." She pushed him away despite the pain of denying herself the sparks of pleasure she knew she could feel under his hands.

"Good and evil are very relative terms," Dan said dryly. He moved forward again, brushing her ringlet curls away from her cheek. "Were you me—if you could feel what I have felt—you would feel justified to take life and destroy as recompense. To rule as compensation."

She set her mouth into a hard line. It was difficult to feel such attraction for a man whose perspective in no way aligned with her own. "That's not an excuse," she said, poking his chest hard. "And deep down, you know it. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here having so much fun _pretending to be human again_."

He grabbed onto her hand. Funny, she did not feel threatened by his actions. "I am not human," he said. His strong fingers caressed hers. "And I do not understand your ridiculous morality. But let me stay here with you. You told me earlier today that desiring to be in the presence of a like mind is…human. I want to understand this more. Is that not enough?"

At some core, the ravaged mind that was a broken Daniel Fenton and a jaded Vlad Plasmius were aligned in this. The whole of Dan Phantom suffered from the most human longing of all—to have someone to share time with. To have a companion of sorts who could keep up with him. He looked away, mouth set in an uncomfortable line.

These were not thoughts to vocalize, for he knew they were the driving force behind his chess games with Valerie. He had perhaps already said too much.

Valerie leaned against the wall, rubbing her temples. _Fuck my life._ "Are you seriously using my own words against me so I'll feel like I'm contributing to your evilness if I make you leave?"

"As a matter of fact…"

She looked up and glared at him. Then the fight left her. "I hate you," she groaned. "I don't know why you keep arguing just for space—"

He moved forward. "So I can stay?"

Her voice grew hard as she conceded. "If you do, you're sleeping on the floor. No exceptions. And if you try anything, and I mean_ anything_, the battle suit comes on, and I'm drop-kicking you out the window. Got it?"

He looked mildly disappointed, but expectant. "It is a better arrangement than having to sleep on sheets that other humans have previously slept on."

She gave him an incredulous look as she began to move towards her dresser. The bottom drawer contained an extra set of sheets, and she pulled them out with a suffering sigh. "So what do you call stuff I've slept on?"

"Well, that's different._ You've_ slept on them, which makes them better."

"That makes no sense."

"You know you love it."

She huffed, but said nothing as she unraveled the sheets and laid them out along the carpeted floor. Her room was small enough that Dan would be laying down right beside her bed. Something about that sparked her tingles all over again.

She heard the rustle of clothes, and she looked up, realizing that Dan was shrugging out of his jacket. Then she froze, paling. "…What are you doing?!"

"You can't expect me to remain dressed, can you?" he asked simply, kicking off his combat boots. Then he began to unbuckle the belt on his pants. "Truly, I despise how restricting normal clothes are."

She looked horrified as she quickly looked away before her eyes could get stuck watching him undress. "Ohmigod." Her blush deepened and spread all the way down her collarbones. "You've gotta be kidding me."

He huffed at her, pulling the tie out of his hair. He was now in only his jeans and a tight, thin shirt. "What?" he asked as he ran his fingers through his light tangles, giving her bedroom eyes. "It's not like I'm getting naked. Unless you _want_ me to get naked."

She slapped her forehead. Her voice strangled. "No, I don't want you naked. Keep your pants on. Seriously."

Dan rolled his eyes, but he conceded, for he knew he would likely have to warm her up to the idea of heavier adult-type touching over the course of time.

One day—he knew it—the sexual tension would have to go somewhere. It was inevitable. He could feel it.

"Okay," Valerie sighed wearily. She pulled off the extra pillow off of her bed and cast it onto the sheets she'd set out. "It's like, freakin' 11:00. I am going to sleep whether you like it or not." And she climbed onto her bed, then flipped a switch on the wall. The room fell into darkness, but for the slight moonlight from her window.

In the dark, Dan pulled off the thin shirt he'd worn beneath his jacket. As Valerie asked so nicely, he kept his pants on, though he wish he had access to something other than jeans—those were not comfortable sleepwear at all. With a suffering sigh, he stretched onto the pile of blankets. He marveled at how familiar this all felt despite years of not sleeping, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric.

He twisted onto his back, placing his hands behind his head. The sheets smelled like detergent and Valerie, of which he liked the Valerie part. "Hmm," he said, closing his eyes. "Now, Valerie—I know you have a manipulative streak in you. So if I hibernate myself on your request, only to discover you taking advantage of me, I shall be very cross."

She snorted into her pillow. From Dan's angle, all he could see was a few strands of her hair. But then her face appeared over the side of the bed in a tumble of curls, an eyebrow cocked with incredulity. "Right back at you, buddy."

His smile still shined white, even in the darkness. And he watched as her eyes swept over his body, from his broad shoulders down. His lips stretched wider. "Like what you see?"

She blushed, then looked away, her head disappearing back over her bed. "I was just making sure you weren't hiding any weapons on you."

The excuse was poor, for both knew Dan Phantom did not carry physical weapons. "Whatever makes you sleep better, Valerie," he called up to her with a dark chuckle. "Whatever makes you sleep better."

Silence fell between them, with nothing but the sound of Valerie's grumble and the furnace breathing warm air into the room. It was an almost comfortable arrangement. Almost like they were old friends—and perhaps in some twisted way, they were.

When Dan said nothing more for quite some time, Valerie grew curious to know if he were really behaving. Clenching her covers tighter around her, she inched her eyes over the edge of her bed to peer down at him. And she blinked in surprise. Dan had covered himself in a blanket and turned on his side away from her. For someone who boasted never having to sleep, and who said his energy was endless, Dan appeared out like a light. The naked lines of his shoulders rose and fell in a breath that Dan did not need, but likely did subconsciously out of habit. Every line in his body was relaxed in a way she had never seen.

Did he really trust her so much to sleep in her presence?

Something twitched Valerie's lips into an amused smirk. For a time, she simply watched him in curiosity, burrowing against her pillow, marveling at this strange ghost who had destroyed her life in so many ways and yet still carried sparks of the Danny she once knew.

Then she pulled her blankets over herself and turned on her side._ I can't believe he's sleeping in my __**room**_, she thought ruefully, squeezing her eyes shut tight to rid herself of the tingles that still ran down her body. _What the hell is my life coming to? _

Soon enough, her exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she relaxed deep into dreams.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _God, these past few weeks were stressful. I had a major business deal that kicked off at work, and I was so nervous that I rambled and made myself sound stupid. I never want to show my face to those people again, and the work's only just beginning. The struggle is real. _

_Going back to the story, this was an interesting update for me to write, because I was constantly having to juggle between Dan and Val's physical attraction and their inherently opposite moral standards. This update also made a minor reference to "Tis the Season to Be Friends," regarding the beast with two backs metaphor (Thanks, Trish, haha). I'm not sure yet if all my holiday stories will be in the same universe/timeline, but I just couldn't resist here. It fit with my head-canon that Dan is secretly a literary junkie. _

_I'm not sure how long you want me to keep going with this thread. So I'm opening this up to you guys as an informal poll: _**What update would you like to see next: Valentine thread, Aftermath thread, Karma thread, or a new one-shot/request?**

_Please review with thoughts. Thanks! _


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